Speak Easy, Boys
by OrangeLlyan
Summary: It's 1932 and Prohibition is in full swing but getting a drink is as easy as visiting your neighborhood speak easy. It's lucrative but bootlegging liquor is a dangerous business run by ruthless mobsters. Taking them down is just as dangerous and sometimes best done from the inside out…
1. Prologue - The Price of Betrayal

**Speak Easy, Boys**

 **Summary:** It's 1932 and Prohibition is in full swing but getting a drink is as easy as making friends with your neighborhood bootlegger. But bootlegging is a dangerous business run by ruthless mobsters. Taking them down is just as dangerous and sometimes best done from the inside out…

 **Several other notes:**

1\. Except for the prologue, the story follows Gibbs, Tony and McGee although many familiar faces will appear. All the named characters are from NCIS episodes and may provide hints to which side of the law they are on. Even a few familiar locations will turn up now and again. I tried to keep the team in character but their paths, both professional and personal, may not mirror the show exactly. With this being AU, I took a few liberties and had some fun. Hopefully you have some fun with it too.

2\. I did research the era, but I'm not a historian. Anachronisms may either serve the story purpose or weren't intentional.

3\. This is a relatively long one (26 chapters and the prologue) but it is complete so I'll be able to update regularly.

4\. Speakeasy: an establishment that illegally sells alcoholic beverages.

From Wikipedia: The term "speakeasy" might have originated in Pennsylvania in 1888, when the Brooks High-License Act raised the state's fee for a saloon license from $50 to $500. The number of licensed bars promptly plummeted, but some bars continued to operate illegally. Kate Hester had run a saloon for years in McKeesport, just outside of Pittsburgh. She refused to pay the new license fee and wanted to keep from drawing attention to her illegal business. When her customers got too rowdy, she would hush them by whispering, "Speak easy, boys! Speak easy!"

* * *

 **Prologue - The Price of Betrayal**

 _March 1932_

"You're sure he's telling the truth?"

"I'm sure," the man replied as he absently twirled a bloody knife in his hand.

If he was at all put off at all by the man's demeanor or the bloody knife, he didn't show it. His features hardened. "I can't afford any surprises, Boone. He gave up the location of his records and money he stole from me?"

"He did," Boone replied. "Your boys picked up the last of it. It's all there, Mr. Napolitano."

"Good," the portly man replied harshly as he smoothed his finely cut suit. "Let's get this over with. I have a dinner party to get to."

"Right this way, Mr. Napolitano," Boone said, motioning for the portly man to follow him into the next room.

He glanced around the room. The windows had been boarded up and every available hard surface had been covered with heavy blankets tacked to the walls and a mishmash of carpets covered the wooden floors. Boone had done all that he could to ensure that his activities went undetected. The thought made him shiver.

The only piece of furniture in the room was occupied but the man seated in the hard, wooden chair didn't seem to be fully conscious. He took a moment to examine the small, bloody man. His hands were bound tightly behind his back and his legs were bound to the chair legs. His eyes were closed and his head hung limply, his short black hair was dripping with sweat. He was covered in blood from dozens of tiny cuts that bled through his shirt. His face was bruised and he had a split lip.

Boone walked over to the bound man and started to slap his face.

"Terry," Boone said in a singsong voice. "Terry. Time to wake up, Terry. Mr. Napolitano wants to talk."

Terry slowly began to come around and after a moment he focused on Boone's face. He tried to recoil but he could only move so far before he hit the back of the chair.

"Kyle," Terry said in a raspy voice. "I've told you everything. I swear."

"I believe you," Boone replied as he tapped the knife on Terry's knee. Terry cringed and watched the knife closely. "Mr. Napolitano wants to talk with you."

Terry looked up and finally noticed Napolitano standing near the door. He was already pale to begin with but when Terry saw him in the doorway, what little color he had left drained from his face. "Jimmy," he said.

"Terry," Jimmy said as he approached the man in the chair. "What were you thinking? Did you think I wouldn't notice that you were skimming off the top?"

"Of course not," Terry replied hastily. "Because I wasn't."

"That's not what you told, Mr. Boone," he said.

"I was lying!" Terry replied.

Napolitano looked at Boone. "That seem like a strange thing to lie about to you, Boone?"

"It does," Kyle replied as he began to play with the knife again.

"That's what I thought," Napolitano replied. "Especially when I have all this evidence that shows you skimming off the top. We found the duplicate books you kept and we found the money."

"No harm done then," Terry said but he cut himself off as he realized that he had incriminated himself. He opened his mouth like a landed fish but he couldn't seem to say the words that would refute his admission.

"That's where you are wrong, Terry my boy," Jimmy said as he knelt so he could look the terrified man in the eyes. "No one steals from me and gets away with it. No one. Not even you." Jimmy's eyes were cold and his voice was deadly serious. "You were going to go to the Feds if you got caught, weren't you?"

Terry shook his head despondently. "I wouldn't do that, Jimmy! Why would I do that?"

"Because you thought that they could protect you," Jimmy replied as he leaned down to look Terry in the eye. "You figured that they wouldn't care if you stole a bit of money if you handed me over to them on a silver platter."

"No," Terry objected weakly as he tried to avoid Jimmy's gaze.

"Your problem, Terry, is that I figured it out. You don't think I know how to run my own books? You don't think that I can't add up the numbers and find out you're stealing? No one is clever enough to steal from Jimmy Napolitano and you're going to be my example." He looked at Kyle. "Make sure you drop him some place where he'll be found."

"I know just the place," Kyle said with an evil smile as he hefted the knife once again.

"Good bye, Terry," Jimmy said as he left the room. He paused at the door but did not look back. "I'm sorry it has to end this way," he added, genuinely.

"Jimmy!" Terry cried as he looked from Kyle to the door. "Jimmy!"

Jimmy shut the door just as Terry let out a terrible scream. Alone in the hallway, Jimmy allowed himself a slight shudder. Kyle Boone enjoyed his job far more than any man should. He seemed to live to cause pain just so he could see what it did to people.

While Boone gave him the creeps, he couldn't deny that the man was valuable. His was in a competitive business and sometimes people needed to be dealt with. Kyle Boone was willing and eager to get his hands dirty. It made for a symbiotic partnership.

Composing himself, he returned to the entryway of the house where he had left his son while he dealt with Terry.

"Is it done, Pops?" Ricky asked.

"Of course, it's done," he replied tersely. "Which leaves us with a problem. We need a new accountant."

"You still want Willie Taylor's old man?" Ricky asked.

"Is he the best accountant?" Napolitano asked.

"That's what people are saying," Ricky said. "He pulled Taylor's club out of gutter even with our people putting the screws on it. Gave Taylor the backbone to stand up to us when we tried to acquire his club."

"Hence why we had to take some drastic measures with Taylor," Napolitano replied. Ricky nodded. "If he's the best available, I want him."

"What about Matteson?" Ricky asked. "Wouldn't it be better to promote someone who already works for us?"

"Matteson?" he asked as he tried to put a face to a name. "Dale Matteson? The guy who runs the books on the level businesses?" Ricky nodded. He snorted. "He might know his numbers, but Pale Dale doesn't have the intestinal fortitude for a job like this." Ricky shrugged, unable to argue the point. "Get me Taylor's man."

"I'll have one of our associates check him out and then bring him in for an interview. Should I contact Agent…"

"I've already had him investigated. Do you think I'd ask for him if I hadn't checked into him?" Jimmy asked sharply, cutting his son off. "You can contact Agent Fornell. Have Fornell inform Taylor's numbers man of the employment opportunity and that I'd like to interview him but give it a few days until this unpleasant matter has cooled off a bit. I don't want Fornell to put the pieces together." Ricky looked surprised but nodded.

"I still don't think we can trust him, Pops," Ricky said as he straightened his jacket before they left the house. Boone had selected a dilapidated home in a run-down neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Here, there were no streetlights and the nearest house was either abandoned or tightly shuttered so that it appeared abandoned. Either way, there was no one to witness the comings and goings from Boone's private office as he called it.

They walked out of the run-down house and down a short path through darkness until they reached a car parked on the street. A large man opened the rear door for them. "He's true blue," Ricky continued. "Fornell is not one that you can just turn with a wad of dough. How do we know he won't screw us over?"

"Because we'll use our other friend from the Bureau to make sure he stays true to us," Jimmy said as he got into the car, followed by Ricky.

"But why use him?" Ricky asked. "We've got plenty of people we trust more than him."

"Because I can," Napolitano retorted. "He knows who has the power and it ain't him. So, if I tell him to go meet Taylor's man, he goes to meet Taylor's man. If I want him to take my suits to the cleaner, he'll take my suits to the cleaner with a smile on his face." Napolitano smoothed his suit. "He knows that he has too much to lose if he turns on us or doesn't do as he's told." He smiled grimly. "His little girl."

"You'd kill a kid?" Ricky asked surprised.

Jimmy smacked his son on the head. "Are you stupid? Of course, I won't hurt the kid. She doesn't have to be hurt to get to Fornell. We just arrange it so she goes missing and if he wants her back, he'll have to cooperate."

"Oh," Ricky said as he rubbed his head ruefully. "I see. How will Fornell know this number cruncher?"

"He won't," Jimmy replied as the large man took his seat in the front. "But we know what he looks like and we know where he'll be. The man is as predictable as he is reliable."

"And how…"

"Is that all you do is ask questions?" Jimmy snapped. "Let's get a move on," Jimmy said to the driver. "We're late." The driver nodded and started the car.

"Well this one is important Pops," he said. When Jimmy didn't cut him off, he asked, "Don't you think that it's risky to let Fornell know who our new accountant is? I mean, if he would ever turn on us, all he'd have to do is turn Gemcity over to his friends at the Bureau and we'd be sunk."

"That is a good question, Ricky," Jimmy nodded appreciatively. "Maybe you've learned something from your old man after all." Ricky smiled at the praise. "We don't tell Fornell that he's our new accountant. We just tell him that he's to contact Willie Taylor's man for a job opportunity. He doesn't need to know what that opportunity is."

"That's a good idea, Pops."

"Of course, it is!" he retorted. "You don't think that I've avoided the cops by being dumb do ya?"

"Of course not!" Ricky protested as they drove off.


	2. Chapter 1 - Public Faces

**A/N:** So this chapter is a unique in that it's told from three different character's perspectives (you'll see as you read along). It's also one of the longer chapters but it serves as a pretty good introduction to our characters in their alternate lives. I'd also like to point out that this story sprouted from a single image of Timothy McGee in his brown trench coat that he wore early on in the show and a 1920s style suit, fedora and wire-rimmed spectacles that I couldn't get out of my head until I figured out why. This story is what I came up with. Hope everyone enjoys it as much as I had fun writing it!

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – Public Faces**

 _Five Days Later_

He sighed as he walked up the street towards a newsstand.

He pulled his long tan overcoat closer to his body against the chill. It was late March but winter didn't seem to want to let go this year. While it had rained last night, the temperature was barely above freezing and the damp air felt even colder than it should, especially with the light breeze.

Suddenly, the wind picked up and he was forced to grab his hat before it was ripped from his head.

He could do without the gusty winds too, he thought as he reached the newsstand manned by a young kid who probably should be in school. But from the looks of the brick that was holding the papers in place, he thought that the kid had enough sense that maybe he didn't need it. Although, on second glance, the kid couldn't have been more than nine or ten years old. Common sense or no, he should be in school.

"I'll take a paper," he said as he held out a nickel. The kid nodded and handed him a couple pennies with his paper. He scanned the headline that had caught his attention. The fact that it was in large, bold letters didn't hurt.

' **IDENTY OF MUTILATED BODY STILL UNKNOWN'**

"That's something, ain't it, mister," the kid said looking up at him intently.

"Yeah, something," he replied half-heartedly as he adjusted the small, circular, wire-rimmed spectacles that he wore. He skimmed the first few lines of the story but noted that there wasn't anything new in the article.

"I wonder who he is and what he did to make someone that mad," the kid said as he looked down at the stack of papers. "And I wonder if we'll ever find out who he was. I heard from a cop that he didn't have much of a face left. Looked like someone bashed it in with a baseball bat."

He shuddered. He had heard that too. And more. Sometimes it didn't pay to be friends with the city coroner's assistant. It especially didn't help that his friend seemed to be fascinated by the various ways people were killed and he liked to share his fascination with anyone within earshot.

He looked down at the kid critically. The kid was far too interested in the mystery man's brutal death. "What's your name, kid?" he asked.

"Nicholas Miller," he replied crossing his arms over his chest.

"Shouldn't you be in school, Nick?" he asked.

"Day off," Nick replied jauntily.

He doubted it but didn't question the kid further. He didn't have the patience to deal with a little hoodlum today. His neighbors had kept him up all night as they alternately fought and made up. And thanks to the thin walls, he heard practically everything.

He took a moment to readjust his glasses, thanked the kid and hurried down the street to a diner which had been his destination before he stopped to pick up the newspaper. He smiled at the waitress as he entered the diner. It was always nice to see Elaine in the morning. The fact that it was warm inside was nice too.

"Morning, Mr. Gemcity," she said as he took off his coat. He sat down at the counter as far from the door as he could and unfolded the paper as she poured him a cup of coffee with a bright smile. "They're still printing that horrible story?" she asked as she noticed the headline.

"Seems so," he replied with a sigh. "News must be slow lately."

"So you're saying that nothing worse has happened to knock this off the front page?" she asked.

He snorted and nodded. "Ain't that the truth. I'll take the usual."

"Coming right up," she said as she walked away.

He skimmed the story but there was nothing new. Sometime in the middle of the night three days ago, someone had deposited the mangled remains of a man in the center of Washington Circle. There had been no witnesses and so far, no one had been able to identify the naked man who had been found hanging from a tree by his wrists.

The story might not have been nearly so interesting if not for the unusual message left with the body. Actually, those in the know knew that the _body_ was the real message but the mysterious message had caught the interest of the press. Aside from being brutally tortured and murdered, the man had a single word carved into his back.

 _Thief._

It was obviously a message that the man had stolen something but the general public didn't know what it meant. But from what he overheard on the streets, people were having a good time speculating who he had been and what he had stolen. And most people's guesses were close to the mark – that it had something to do with bootlegged liquor and the crime that went with the highly profitable and illegal spirits.

And they were right. Which meant that the cops were having a hard time finding anyone who was willing to admit that they knew anything about the man. And there were a lot of people who knew what the message meant, and a lot of people knew who the man was. But no one was willing to talk about it lest they be the next body to turn up with the word _snitch_ carved into their backs.

He included himself in that list of people. Even thinking of it gave him chills.

He hadn't known Terry Spooner personally but he knew of him and he had met Terry once in passing. And he knew that Terry worked for James Napolitano or Jimmy Naps as he was more commonly known on the street.

Jimmy Naps was one of the more prominent businessmen in DC. He owned a variety of businesses ranging from restaurants to importers of foreign goods to factories. All that made him a wealthy man and that wealth earned him political clout within the city.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg for James Napolitano. He also owned the majority of the illegal clubs in the metro area and held control over a large portion of the bootlegging, racketeering, gambling, and prostitution businesses. He was the Prohibition Unit's dream bust but so far he had managed to keep his nose clean. It was largely speculated that he owned most of the local police, judges and politicians, which would add bribery and probably blackmail to the list. It was the only logical explanation.

And Terry. Terry Spooner was the man behind the money. He was Napolitano's personal accountant. It had been his job to launder the money Naps made from his less than legal businesses. And he had been very good at it too. Evidently, he thought that he was good enough to skim some off the top for himself but he had been caught and he paid for it with his life.

His death sent a message to everyone in the city that you don't steal from Jimmy Naps and get away with it. It also said that no one was safe from a terrible fate no matter how close to Jimmy they might be. And if Jimmy was willing to inflict that much pain on a friend, no one wanted to see what he'd do to an enemy.

As someone in the accounting business, it gave him the chills. He just hoped that any future employer of his wouldn't take a page out of Naps' book. Not that he planned on stealing money from any future employers. But these mobster types weren't exactly bound by the laws of evidence or the creed that you are innocent until proven guilty of a crime.

"Any luck finding a new job, Thom?" Elaine asked as she set a plate of bacon, eggs and toast on the counter in front of him.

He pushed the paper aside and shook his head.

"Not yet, Elaine," he replied as he picked up his fork. He frowned. He had been out of work for a month now. And it wasn't for a lack of opportunities. He knew of nearly a dozen openings for an accountant, both legitimate and for less than legal businesses, but he hadn't been hired and no one could give him a good reason as to why. It was as if he had been blackballed from the entire accounting industry.

"I'm just lucky I put some money away for a rainy day," he added. "Too bad it won't last forever."

She nodded sympathetically as she leaned onto the counter. At this time of the morning, the diner was practically empty, so she could take a moment to chat with him. The only other patrons in this late in the morning were a pair of older men chatting away in Italian over coffee in the booth at the opposite side of the diner, a man dressed in an overcoat sitting near the door reading the paper, and a scruffy man in well-worn workman's clothes seated at the far end of the counter huddled over a cup of coffee.

"If only money grew on trees," she said as she looked around. "I would get out of this dump and move some place with a beach. I've had enough of this weather. Summer needs to get here quick. Heck I'd settle for spring."

"Give it a couple more weeks," he said as he ate. "Before you know it, we'll be complaining about the heat."

"I wish," she replied standing up. The owner had just come out of the kitchen. "I don't like this cold rain." She hurried away and attempted to look busy.

As he ate his breakfast, he skimmed through the paper. Most of the articles weren't anything extraordinary and he hardly had any spare money to his name so he didn't pay much attention to the ads for new shoes or the latest jalopy to roll off the line in Detroit. The only interesting article he found was buried on page six and was only three short paragraphs.

The reporter was seeking more information on the various bootlegging rings in the tri-state area. He cited the numerous recent crimes that were blamed on illegal alcohol and demanded to know what the Prohibition Unit was doing to curb the illicit trade. As usual, the Bureau of Prohibition didn't have a comment. Or at least Bureau of Investigation Agent John Charles didn't have a comment.

Typical of the Bureau.

He folded his paper and was just sorting out the coins to pay for his breakfast when the man dressed in the overcoat stood and walked towards him. The man took a seat next to him and waved Elaine off when she approached them. She frowned and walked over to his table and started to collect his dishes.

"I couldn't help overhearing that you're looking for a job," the man said.

He examined the man in the overcoat cautiously. He was older, nearly bald but seemed fit and his blue eyes were bright and alert. They seemed to take everything in, which set him on edge. There was something suspicious about this guy.

"Yeah," he replied cautiously. "But then again so are a lot of people."

"Well I think I might have a position for you," the man said.

"And you are?" he asked as he set the coins on the counter.

"Tobias Fornell," he replied holding out his hand. He cautiously shook it. Suddenly Fornell leaned in and whispered, "And I know you are Mr. Gemcity."

Surprised, he leaned back.

"How do you know my name?"

Fornell stood and said, "Let's take a walk while we discuss this opportunity."

"Sure," he replied as he stood. "I'll see you tomorrow, Elaine," he said as she pocketed his money and began to stack his dishes.

"I'll look forward to it, Thom. Take care," she said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

He stepped over to the door and pulled on his coat and hat before he followed Fornell out into the streets. He unconsciously tucked the paper under his arm and thrust his hands into his pockets as they walked.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked once they had started down the street.

"You shouldn't be so surprised," Fornell said coolly. "You have a reputation in this city." When he didn't reply, Fornell added, "From what I've been told, you're very good at what you do. If your last employer hadn't made some unwise business decisions, you'd still be happily employed."

He examined Fornell. There was something off about him. Despite his confidence, he had an air about him. One that seemed to indicate distaste for what he was doing. The man also didn't seem to know as much about him as he wanted 'Thom' to think he did.

"Yeah that was unfortunate," he replied vaguely. He wasn't going to give this strange man the information he was obviously fishing for. "So here I am at ten in the morning, just done with my breakfast and wandering the streets with a cryptic stranger with a cryptic job offer."

Fornell smiled at that but took his meaning to get on with it. "My employer would like to interview you for an open position," Fornell said and this time, the distaste slipped into his voice. Instantly on edge, he suspected that he knew who the employer was, and which position was open. "I see you know who I'm referring to."

"You won't find anyone in my business who won't know who you are referring to," he replied coolly. "What makes you think that I'm going to want to take a job with him?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't," Fornell replied to his surprise. Fornell caught himself, cleared his throat and said, "But you aren't me and I'm not unemployed. He pays well. Or so I'm told."

"Am I going to be given the opportunity to say no?" he asked half fearful of the answer. He suddenly wondered if Napolitano had been preventing him from obtaining another job because Naps wanted him to take Spooner's job. The thought that Naps had been eying him for so long was chilling.

"I wouldn't know that," Fornell replied. "I'm just delivering the message. A car will be by your apartment at eight to take you to your interview. Good bye, Mr. Gemcity," he said as he hailed a cab.

He shook Fornell's hand and watched as Fornell got inside the cab. He stood riveted in place as the car trundled away until it was out of sight.

Tucking the paper under his arm, he hurried down the street towards a small park.

He was both elated and terrified at the same time. This was something he had been hoping and dreading for eight months. Eight long months he had been trying to make a name for Thom Gemcity as an accountant and money launderer all in hopes that he could get inside Napolitano's network. Then he would work to help take Naps down from the inside, if he wasn't pegged for a Fed.

It seems like his alter ego finally was going to get his chance.

He fought down the fear that was threatening the security of his breakfast. The stakes had just gone up dramatically and he wasn't sure he was ready for this. Going undercover as Willie Taylor's accountant was one thing. He had been an independent club owner and not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

James Napolitano, on the other hand, was a notoriously intelligent man. Few people could pull the wool over Napolitano's eyes and get away with it. How on earth could he hope to do it? He was a terrible liar!

"Excuse me," a man said, drawing his attention and putting a stop to his worrying. He looked down and noticed the scruffy man from the diner was sitting on a bench. "You done with your paper? Mind if I have it?"

He looked into the familiar eyes of his partner and nodded. "Yeah," he said as he handed over the paper. Fornell had interrupted their planned meet. Thankfully his partner had had managed to improvise a second meet. "If you're looking for work, you won't find anything before page eight. Try five or six."

"Thanks for the advice," Tony said as he took the paper. Message delivered, Tim hurried on his way. He had a lot to do before tonight.

Tony opened the paper and made a motion of reading it for the next thirty minutes. When he was done, he folded it and tucked it under his arm. He hurried back to his apartment and after a quick wash and change of clothes; he left again this time as a respectable citizen, albeit a respectable citizen armed with a couple knives and two different guns.

He hailed a cab which quickly took him to a nondescript building in a factory district. The building had a sign which indicated that it was a garment factory, much like the others on either side of it.

But instead of making for the main entrance, he circled the building to a side door that was labeled 'Boiler Room' and 'Danger: Keep Out.' Ignoring the signs, he knocked on the door and a slot slid to the side, revealing a pair of eyes. Before he could say anything else, the door opened, and he hurried inside.

"Hey Blue," he said as he nodded to the large man.

"Tony," he said with a slight nod. "You're early."

"I'm looking for that handyman, Gibbs. I thought I heard he was going to be in today. Is he?" he asked.

"Yeah. He's fixing the sink in the bathroom," Blue said in his thick English accent. "What do you want him for?"

"I haven't had hot water for three days in my apartment. My landlord says he fixed it but he's full of it. I'm sick of cold bathes."

"Can't say I blame you," Blue replied with a chuckle.

"It's not funny, Blue," Tony muttered as he hurried down the hall. After a dozen feet, the room opened but instead of a mechanical room, he found himself in a very large posh club.

At the moment, the chairs were turned upside down on the tables. A man was sweeping up the floor and a young woman was scrubbing the bar while a second woman was folding table linens at a table to the side. He nodded to them as he weaved through the tables, taking the most direct route to the bathrooms.

When he reached them, he could hear metal banging on metal, which led him to the men's room. He found Gibbs lying on the floor as he struggled with a bolt that seemed to be firmly rusted in place.

"You are a far braver man than I, Gibbs," he said as he knelt next to the man, careful to keep his clothes from touching the floor. "I wouldn't be caught dead lying on this floor. You know what goes on in here? I'm not just talking about guys bringing their girls in here for some private time. Blue said his boys caught a couple of guys in here the other night."

Gibbs looked up at him. "Yeah, hence the sheet."

Tony looked down and noticed the dirty sheet that was on the floor. "Good call."

"What do you want, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he sat up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. It wasn't exactly warm in this room which told him how hard Gibbs had been working to loosen the pipe.

"What makes you think I want something?" he asked with a grin. Tony watched as the older man glared at him. His smile slowly disappeared under Gibbs' intense gaze. "Ok so I usually want something."

"What is it this time?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh well," he said stuttering slightly. Even after all these years, Gibbs still managed to make him slightly nervous when he looked at him like that. "Well the boiler in my apartment is on the fritz. I've got heat but the water comes out stone cold."

"Talk to your landlord," Gibbs replied as he lay down again.

"I did," Tony replied. "But he's got a prior commitment." Gibbs perked up and looked at him. Tony nodded slightly.

While their undercover personas were largely independent of one another, they kept in touch with each other through various means. Most times they only made contact with each other once a week unless something unusual occurred. This week, it was his turn to meet Tim and he had selected the diner to make his contact using his 'man down on his luck' persona.

Since Tim could be more predictable, he had made it a habit to eat breakfast at the same diner each morning, which made it easier for them to cross paths. By nature of his job, Tim was a late riser and wouldn't reach the diner until after the morning rush so he had plenty of time to pull out his most worn clothes and spend an hour or so soliciting spare change from the men who were leaving the diner.

He had it timed pretty well now that he would have just enough to get a frugal breakfast and a cup of coffee down before Tim would enter the diner to eat his breakfast and read his paper. He'd nurse his second cup of coffee while Tim ate and read his paper. When Tim finished with the paper, he'd ask for it under the pretense of looking for work. Tim's answer would tell him if they needed to meet again and if they did, when.

But this morning, the balding man with bright blue eyes had interrupted their routine. He had been finishing his breakfast when the balding man entered the diner. Tony had watched as the man scanned the diner as if he was looking for someone specific, but he also recognized that the man was sizing up the other patrons in the diner too. Something about the stranger put him on edge.

He kept an eye on the balding man as he took a seat where he could see the door. The man ordered a cup of coffee and a Danish which he ate as he read the newspaper. But the moment Tim entered the diner, Tony noted that he only feigned interest in his paper. The man's real focus was on his partner.

So, when the bald man approached Tim, he strained to hear what they were saying and silently cursed that he was so far away. He hadn't been able to hear most of their conversation, but he'd heard enough to be concerned so he had followed Tim from the diner at a discrete distance. He had been close enough to hear the man offer his partner a job interview but not close enough to hear if the man had introduced himself.

He hadn't recognized the balding man as one of Napolitano's usual messengers. In fact, he hadn't recognized the man at all, which made him nervous for his young partner. Tim was still a rookie and he wasn't certain that the young man was up for an assignment like this. He'd have to assess that tonight when they met again.

He knew Tim's next stop would be his apartment so while Tim watched as the man got into the cab; he hurried to the park that was on Tim's path home. Then all he had to do was to wait for Tim to walk by and ask for his paper so that Tim could pass his message along.

Now he had to pass that same message along to Gibbs. Thankfully, Gibbs had work inside the _Tin Angel_ this morning which made it easier and less suspicious for them to meet up and exchange news.

"When should I come by?" Gibbs asked.

"Five or six," Tony replied. "My place is on the corner of G and Fourth Northeast," he said giving Gibbs Tim's address. Gibbs nodded slightly to indicate he understood. "I hope this doesn't take too long. I have to work tonight. Some friends of mine are coming by to pick me up at eight."

"Got it," Gibbs replied as he lay down. "But it'll be closer to six. I have to go to _Quicksilver_ after this."

" _Quicksilver_?" Tony asked pausing. The name rang a bell. He searched his memory to figure out why that club stuck out as odd. Suddenly it hit him. "Isn't that the club run by a woman?"

"Wouldn't know. I've never been there before. I'll find out," he replied as Tony stood. "You owe me DiNozzo. And not just for fixing the boiler."

"I know," Tony replied as he left the bathroom, his message delivered. "A bottle of bourbon it is."

"And none of the cheap stuff!" Gibbs called as he watched DiNozzo leave.

It was one thing for Tony to want to meet with him someplace more private but meeting at Tim's place meant that something was up. And given that Tony had put a time limit on their meeting made him think that they had either made progress or they had encountered a problem with their scheme.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to sort out which it was until they met tonight, so he lay down and returned to his work.

A little over an hour later, Gibbs strolled into the main room of _Quicksilver_ carrying his basic toolbox. It was a smaller club than the _Tin Angel_ but it was still large enough to hold a couple hundred people. Like the _Tin Angel_ , _Quicksilver_ was located below a garment factory, although this one made men's trousers. Gibbs could just hear the sound of the equipment above them.

There was an ample stage that was only slightly higher than the main floor which would allow the audience to feel as if they were part of the show. At the moment, only a drum kit and piano occupied the stage. Hard wooden booths on a raised dais lined the edges of the room and tables suited for pairs or larger parties were spread around the room.

It was a little worn around the edges but there were signs that repairs were taking place. It was freshly painted, the wood floor seemed freshly refinished and it was meticulously clean. Even the brick walls seemed to have been scrubbed recently.

He was eager to find out what Tony and Tim had to say that necessitated the first face to face to face meeting for all three of them in almost two months. They had seen each other fairly regularly over the months but it was rare that all three of them were in the same room at the same time.

But before that could happen, he had more work to do. Unfortunately, he didn't know how long the job would take. He didn't even know what the job was. He had only been told to be at _Quicksilver_ and to bring his carpentry tools.

"Hello?" he called as he looked around. Unlike the _Tin Angel_ which bustled with activity, there was no one to be seen.

"Be right there!" a woman called. Her voice echoed through the empty room, making it impossible to know where she was.

A few minutes later, two women appeared from behind the stage. His attention was immediately drawn to the young woman who was talking. She wore a short skirt that was cut just above the knees and a tight white blouse, and her hair was pulled up in children's pigtails, which revealed a strange mark on her neck. On closer inspection, he realized it was a tattoo of a spider web. That in itself was unusual but she wore some of the darkest makeup he had ever seen on a woman, including blood red lipstick. To top it off, she wore knee high boots that could have passed for work boots if they hadn't been made from black leather.

As strange as the young woman was, his eyes were quickly drawn to the other woman. She was strikingly beautiful and had long blond hair. She was dressed in a manner more typical of a respectable woman but she seemed to have an internal strength that was extremely attractive. He couldn't help but stare at her.

"I'll have to special order the fabric," she was saying. "To do what you want to do, it's going to take a lot of material. And it won't be cheap. I have good credit but not that good. I'll need at least half the money up front for the material. We can work out a weekly payment from there."

"If we have a good weekend, I'll have your money by Monday," the strange woman replied.

"Good," the blond replied. She nodded towards Gibbs as he tipped his hat.

After she had gone, he removed his hat and looked at the strange woman. He wasn't sure what to say about her appearance.

"You're the handyman then?" she asked curtly.

"Yes Ma'am," he replied. "I was told to come here with my carpentry tools."

She looked him over but didn't seem to approve of what she saw. "First of all, I'm not a Ma'am. My name is Abby. Secondly, the stage is over there," she said pointing. "See what you can do with it. I'd hate to have my new singer fall through in the middle of her performance."

"Well depending on how good she is, it might improve the show," he replied as he walked over to the stage. He didn't particularly care for the music generally played at these clubs but if he wanted a drink, he had to tolerate it.

Although now that he thought of it, that wasn't entirely true. There were a couple of blind tigers in his neighborhood that didn't bother with entertainment. But he wasn't so desperate for a drink that he'd drink swill. He missed the days where he could go down to the neighborhood saloon and enjoy a drink in peace and quiet.

"I am very good," a woman said from just off stage. She walked onto the platform and looked at him. "And Mr. Napolitano would not take kindly to you if your shoddy work led me to injury."

He looked at the woman. She was tall and slender, with dark brown or black hair. With the lighting, he couldn't tell. She was very beautiful and had a strange accent. He couldn't quite place it.

"My work is never shoddy," he replied firmly.

"We shall see," she replied. She examined him closely for a moment before she continued. "It feels as if the stage might collapse around here," she said indicating a portion of the stage near the front and center, right where she would stand when singing.

"This is my club," Abby said drawing his attention again. "So, if you have a problem, you see me. Abigail Sciuto and no one else."

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he replied, holding his hand out for her to shake, indicating that he accepted her as the manager.

She shook it firmly.

"Leroy Jethro," she said. "Not your usual name."

"Most people just call me Gibbs," he replied as he set his tool box down.

"For good reason," Abby replied. "This is my new singer, Miss Ziva David."

"David?" he repeated. "I'm not the only one with an unusual name."

"It is common where I am from," she replied.

"Which is?" he asked.

"Tel Aviv," she replied.

"Palestine?" Gibbs asked. "You're a long way from home, Miss David."

"I go where my work takes me," she replied. "I think that you find yourself in a similar situation, no?"

"I do," he replied as he set his tool box down. Carefully he tested the floor of the stage and after a moment, he retrieved a pry bar. With some effort, he pulled up a couple floor boards. After examining the problem with the help of a flashlight, he said, "The joist is split down the center of the wood, along the grain. I'll have to tear up the stage and replace it."

"I've got a show tonight!" Abby protested. "There's no way you can tear up my stage."

"Easy," he said as he saw her starting to get worked up. "I can patch it for now. A couple of boards on either side with a bolt on either side of the crack will shore it up. I can also add a couple of braces between the bad board and the good ones on either side. It'll take four or five hours. Plenty of time to get your stage cleaned up for Miss David."

"And you'll fix the stage when we're closed Monday?" she asked.

"I'll be by first thing Monday to fix your stage," he replied.

"Good," Abby said in relief. "Well at least it sounds good. Let's see if you can put your money where your mouth is."

Hours later, he chuckled as he watched Abby jump on the newly repaired stage. She looked at it and said, "Looks good as new. Feels like it too. Gibbs, you're hired!"

He smiled at her, bemused. Over the course of the afternoon, she spent most of her time dealing with club issues in such a rapid-fire manner that his head was left spinning. But he couldn't deny that she was good at her job and she certainly could handle the men that crossed her path. Despite her odd dress, Gibbs found that he liked this young woman. She had spit and fire.

"I work for Mr. Napolitano fixing all his properties," he replied mildly as he put away his tools. "It was no trouble."

"I know that," she replied quickly. "But he doesn't pay you to remodel buildings, does he?"

"No," Gibbs replied wondering what she was about to ask of him. "He doesn't."

"Well if you're interested in making some extra money, I've got big plans for this place. I mean you can see that the old manager didn't exactly keep up with things. This place needs some polish before it'll be up to par with the _Tin Angel_ ," she said.

Gibbs considered it. She could be a valuable source of information.

"What have you got in mind?" he asked. And he couldn't deny that the extra money wouldn't be welcome. Napolitano paid well enough for him to get by but a little extra pocket change never hurt.

"A whole lot of things," she said enthusiastically. Just looking at Abby, he could sense that she was going to ramp up in a hurry. "The bar needs to be refinished. I want a new backdrop behind the bar and new shelves for the liquor. You saw me talking with the seamstress. She's going to make some draperies for me and I want to replace all the dingy brass with silver. That's just to start."

"Well you decide what you want first and we'll talk price," he replied as he pulled on his coat. "I'll be back on Monday to fix your stage." She nodded. "Nice to meet you Miss Sciuto."

"A pleasure, Mr. Gibbs," she said shaking his hand.

He smiled. "Just Gibbs'll be fine." She smiled brightly.

As he was about to leave, a young man entered the club and looked around. When he spotted them, he hurried to their side. The young man was dressed in a well-fitted brown suit and had a neat haircut and a small mustache on his upper lip.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" he asked.

"What's it to you?" Abby asked confrontationally before he could reply. The man looked at her and her strange dress oddly. He seemed to be mesmerized by her appearance. "Who are you anyway?"

"Charles Sterling," he replied jerking back to the present. From the way he spoke, it seemed as if they were supposed to know who he was.

"What do you want, Chip?" Abby asked curtly.

"My name is Charles," he replied annoyed. "I need to speak to a Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he said firmly. "It was my understanding that he would be here."

"I'm Gibbs," he replied.

The young man looked at him and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a small sealed envelope and handed it to Gibbs. "I was asked to give this to you."

Gibbs took the letter and ripped it open. There was a small single sheet of paper inside with a short, scribbled note in familiar handwriting.

'Gibbs, can't make it tonight. Unexpectedly called in for a meeting. You still need to keep our maintenance appointment.'

Gibbs looked up and noticed Charles was still standing in front of him, expectantly.

"You waiting for a tip?" he asked.

"It would be nice," Chip replied as if he were a cad for not offering one before.

Suddenly Abby grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Stay out of dark alleys, Chip," she said as she gave him a push. Reluctantly, Chip left the club looking darkly in their direction. Abby looked at Gibbs, grinning.

"Thanks," he replied as he picked up his tool box. He worked hard for his money. He wasn't about give it to a kid in an expensive suit just for handing him an envelope. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Sure thing," she said as he left.

He hurried outside and put his tools into the back of his truck. It was a short drive to his destination but he knew that it wouldn't be easy getting in unnoticed. Naps would undoubtedly have people watching his destination. This was going to take some time and some ingenuity.


	3. Chapter 2 - Employment

**Chapter 2 – Employment**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

Hours after meeting with the mysterious man, Tim found himself pacing his tiny apartment trying to work off his nervous energy while he waited. It was almost six and Tony still hadn't arrived. His boss wasn't here yet either. He tried to remain calm but he was worried. And in his empty apartment, his imagination was running wild.

He had a meeting with Jimmy Napolitano in a few hours. How could he remain calm with that hanging over his head?

Suddenly there was a knock on his door, which nearly caused him to jump out of his skin.

Chiding himself, he hurried to the door and found Gibbs standing outside.

"Boss," he said as he moved out of the way to let him enter. When he shut the door, he asked, "Tony?"

"Not coming," Gibbs replied, pulling his coat off to reveal dusty overalls. He must have come straight from work. Gibbs worked as a carpenter and handyman for Napolitano. "He's been called into work. Not sure if it's related to you. Who contacted you, Tim?"

"I didn't recognize him. He called himself Tobias Fornell. I don't think it was an alias," Tim replied. He thought he saw a flicker of recognition in Gibbs' eye at the mention of Fornell's name but when Gibbs didn't say anything, he figured it had been his imagination. "Older guy, maybe your age?" he guessed. Gibbs dropped his coat onto the back of the chair and turned around. Tim saw the look his Boss was giving him. "Well he was older than me. I didn't say he was _old_ ," he stammered slightly.

He watched as a ghost of a smile played across Gibbs' lips. He wasn't sure why that made him nervous. It certainly wasn't reassuring.

Deciding that he shouldn't wait for Gibbs to tell him to get on with it, he cleared his throat and said, "Five foot ten or five eleven. Grey hair, but mostly bald. Blue eyes. Way too observant for one of Napolitano's normal messengers. I'm thinking he's either a cop or a Fed."

"You think this might be a sting to get you?" Gibbs asked as he removed his well-worn flat cap and tossed it onto the table. Gibbs ran his hands through his hair as he sat down at the worn wooden table and looked around. He followed Gibbs' gaze, self-conscious of his shabby apartment. It was scrubbed clean but there was no hiding the wear and tear from less conscientious renters. "We know the Bureau has a file on Gemcity after _Sugar Street_ was raided. They'd love to pick him up for questioning."

"I don't think it's a sting," he said shaking his head emphatically as he sat down across from Gibbs. "He didn't like what he was doing. I could hear it in his voice. I've thought about it and my guess is that he's probably being blackmailed into working for Napolitano."

Gibbs shrugged. "Not out of the question," Gibbs said. "He's got dirt on half of this town."

His brows furrowed as he thought back to the conversation. "The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced he didn't know what he was talking about. He never said that I was seeing Naps about the accountant's job. Heck, he never even said Napolitano's name. He was just a messenger."

He stopped as he realized that the man _hadn't_ said Napolitano's name. Was he a messenger for Naps? Or was he a messenger for some other underworld businessman? There were a few out there. Naps might be the biggest fish in the pond but he wasn't the only one.

"What if he doesn't work for Napolitano?" he asked. "That would explain why we didn't recognize him."

"He works for Napolitano," Gibbs said confidently.

"How do you know?" Tim asked.

Gibbs motioned towards the window. "You've got company keeping an eye on your place."

"I thought I would," Tim replied. "They didn't see you?" Gibbs stared at him. "Of course, they didn't." He glanced towards the window even though the curtains were pulled shut. "You recognized the guys watching my place."

Gibbs nodded. "Sal Balducci is all muscle and no brains," Gibbs replied. "And easy to spot from a block away. I've seen the other guy around but I don't know his name. He must be the brains of the outfit. You think this Fornell was cop? Could he have been from the Prohibition Unit or the Bureau of Investigation?" Gibbs asked.

"Maybe," Tim said shaking his head. He wasn't sure. And not knowing could be disastrous. He could get made or worse: he could get dead. Either way their mission failed. "He definitely wasn't one of Napolitano's normal messengers. I don't know. There was just something off about him but I can't put my finger on it."

Gibbs nodded. "I'll pass it along. See what we can find."

"It won't be easy," he said. "If we start asking about him, then it might make Napolitano suspicious." Gibbs stared at him. He wavered under his boss' intense gaze. "But you know that," he said stammering slightly. "Right, well he knew me as Thom Gemcity," Tim said. "Not Timothy McGee." He frowned as he searched his gut instincts. "I don't know. It doesn't feel like a sting, Boss, but there's something weird about Fornell." Suddenly it hit him. "Well if it is a sting, he'll only get Mr. Gemcity."

"Well that's why you're running an undercover profile while undercover," Gibbs replied. "And that's not something easy to do, Tim. Tony and I only have two stories to keep straight. You've got three." He blinked in surprise at the praise. Gibbs offered his praise so sparingly that it took him off guard. "But it's been worth it. If he was with the Bureau of Investigation and tonight is a sting, then it means our plan is working and we're keeping Tim McGee out of any more trouble than you're already in. If it is a sting, maintain your cover as Gemcity and we'll deal with the outcome as best we can."

Tim nodded then frowned. Taking on this mission had meant some personal sacrifices on his part. So far it didn't seem to be worth it but he wasn't about to abandon his partners in the middle of an operation. He just had to pray that in the end that he could redeem himself in his family's eyes.

"You be careful tonight, McGee. If it gets hairy, get yourself out of there."

"And ruin eight months of undercover work? I don't think so, Boss," he replied emphatically. He was not about to jump ship at the first sign of trouble tonight. They had worked too hard for this opportunity and he wasn't a coward.

"I'd rather waste eight months of time than have you end up like Spooner," Gibbs replied. Tim frowned. He didn't want that either, but he wasn't going give up so easily. "You got anything to eat?" Gibbs asked as he looked around the tiny apartment. He eyed the icebox.

"Uh yeah," he replied after a moment's pause. "Some roast chicken and potatoes my sister made yesterday," he replied. "Help yourself."

Gibbs walked over to the icebox and opened the door. "She gave you all this?"

Tim shrugged as Gibbs pulled out most of a whole roast chicken and a bowl of potatoes.

"Sarah thinks I'm unemployed," he said with a frown. He hated lying to his sister but it couldn't be helped. "She can't understand why the Navy canned me or why I can't get a job with the Bureau of Investigation," he replied. "I never told her that I was 'fired' for getting involved with the bootlegging trade. My parents haven't told her either."

Gibbs nodded as he turned on the oven to heat the food.

Instead of taking on a new identity, he had gone undercover as himself. Except that Timothy McGee had been fired from ONI for suspected involvement in bootlegging or more accurately, laundering money on the side for bootleggers. He was the good egg gone bad even though they didn't have enough proof to take him to trial. It was still enough for him to be fired.

Unfortunately, that meant that the world thought that Tim McGee was a suspected criminal and that included his family. They didn't know that he was under cover. They didn't know that he was trying to stop the bootleggers. They didn't know that he was still on the side of the law.

His father, a Navy Admiral stationed in California, had been furious. He had gone so far as to disown him. It was bad enough that he had a son that refused the family duty to serve in the Navy. He wouldn't have a criminal for a son.

His mother had been crushed and had apparently cried for a week according to a friend of the family who had tried to convince him to come back to California to get his life straightened out.

He had refused, of course. He knew that he still had a job to do but it had been incredibly hard on him. Knowing how disappointed his mother was in him had been a body blow and his already tenuous relationship with his father had been shattered. And until this case was over, he couldn't attempt to repair the damage. He just hoped that he could tell his family the truth before the damage was permanent.

The great irony was that the Bureau of Investigation had asked Office of Naval Intelligence to go undercover. Prohibition had led to rampant corruption among police and even within the Bureau of Investigation. The Bureau knew they had one or more corrupt agents in their organization helping Napolitano avoid prosecution. Every time they put someone undercover, their man turned up dead within days.

The BOIs knew they had to go outside of their organization if they wanted to get Napolitano. They needed an organization that Naps wouldn't suspect. They needed people who weren't known in Washington and an organization that wouldn't leak. That had led the Bureau to ONI.

"And she was happy," Tim continued as he joined Gibbs in the kitchen. "She sold a short story to the paper." Gibbs looked at him questioningly. Suddenly he remembered that he had told Gibbs about Sarah's troubles with being accepted as a writer because she was a woman. "Under the name Sandy Banks," he added with a frown. He hated that his sister had to use a penname just to get her stories published. She was just as good a writer as any man. And he hated that the 'readers' wouldn't accept something written by a woman. It was a lousy excuse to discriminate against her and he would bet that if he had submitted Sarah's story, he'd have been paid twice as much. "And they've expressed interest in a couple more of her stories. If they keep buying her stuff, she thinks she'll be able to quit her night job and focus solely on school."

"Good for her," Gibbs replied as he grabbed a couple of plates. Gibbs divided up the leftovers and put them in the oven. He wasn't really hungry but he didn't stop Gibbs from fixing a plate for him. He didn't feel like arguing with his boss.

They stood in silence while they waited for the food to reheat. After a while he worked up the nerve to bring up the topic he most wanted to discuss. Taking a deep breath, he said, "You didn't ask if I was ready for this."

"I don't have to," Gibbs replied as he looked him straight in the eye.

He knew Gibbs meant it but he wasn't so certain. "Boss…I've never been undercover before…"

"You forgetting these last eight months McGee?" Gibbs asked sternly.

"No," he said stammering slightly. "But working for Willie Taylor isn't the same as working for James Napolitano! This is big boss. Everything we've worked for comes down to me. If I don't get the job, then eight months of work is lost. Even if I do get the job, I could get made and then we've lost eight months of work and I'm dead!"

He blinked in shock as he felt a sharp smack to the back of his head. He hadn't seen Gibbs move but he knew Gibbs had just hit him. And it had the desired effect. It stopped his rambling and got his attention.

"You're a good agent, Tim. You've proved that by getting to this point. Tony couldn't have gotten this meeting with Napolitano. God knows, I couldn't have done it either."

He opened his mouth to object. Gibbs and Tony were natural undercover agents. He was awkward at best and prior to this case, his one and only time undercover had been only half successful.

Gibbs cut him off before he could say a word. "Tony is a great undercover agent. He can talk his way out of the worst situations. But both he and I don't have the book smarts you have. You can work numbers and figures better than any man I know. That's what this job needs and that's why I'm not worried that you can do this job. Doesn't mean…"

"That I should be prepared for anything. I know," he said drolly. Gibbs had hammered those lessons into him since he had joined his team. "I just wish I didn't have to leave my gun behind." He glanced at his pistol that lay on the counter and a small revolver that was next to it. His main and his back up. "If something goes wrong, I'll be at a disadvantage with only a knife."

"It's only a disadvantage if they know about it," Gibbs replied as he pulled his plate out of the oven and tested the temperature of the food. When he found it to be warm enough, he grabbed a towel and transferred the plates to a small table in the living area. "You got something to drink?"

"Yeah," he replied as he grabbed some utensils then opened the ice chest and reached to the back. He pushed aside the nearly empty bottle of milk and grabbed a couple of bottles of beer and uncapped them before joining Gibbs at the small table.

"Beer?" Gibbs asked surprised.

"Tony left them the last time he was here. Figured I could use a drink before I leave and I don't have anything stronger," he replied as he sat down. "I don't drink bourbon." Gibbs smiled slightly. "Not that I could afford a bottle of liquor right now even if I did. My finances are getting a little thin."

"I thought you'd saved most of your salary while we were overseas," Gibbs said as he started to eat.

"We haven't been overseas for a year, boss," he objected as he pushed a couple potatoes around on his plate. "And besides, most of that went to Sarah's schooling. I saved as much as I could since I knew that I was going to be fired from ONI but it's been eight months since I last had a reliable and decent paycheck. Taking this place helped stretch things but…"

"You worked for Taylor since the Navy fired you," Gibbs said cutting him off.

He snorted. "Taylor wasn't exactly the shining example of a businessman. It was rare that I got paid on time or in full. Hell, some weeks, I was just happy to get paid at all and that was after I sorted out his books and improved his cash flow. If he hadn't hired me, he would have had to close up shop months ago."

He frowned as he realized that if Taylor had gone out of business, he'd probably still be alive. In a way, it was his fault that the man had been killed…

"How come I'm just hearing this now?" Gibbs asked, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

He shrugged. "I figured it wouldn't do any good to complain. I had to make do, didn't I?"

"We could help you out McGee," Gibbs replied. "Naps pays well enough. Tony and I could have spared some money to keep you afloat."

He shook his head. "Thanks. But I'm getting by. As long as I'm frugal, I have enough for a couple of months, yet." Gibbs nodded. "And I'm definitely better off than some others right now. Unlike Taylor, I'm still alive."

Gibbs shrugged. "I wouldn't have guessed Taylor's finances were that bad. Speakeasy's make money hand over fist."

"Yeah well, Taylor was a small fish in a big pond. He was getting squeezed by businessmen with dubious business practices," he said. Gibbs looked at him questioningly. "Napolitano was probably squeezing him but I didn't dig too much into it. I didn't want to make myself a target."

"Probably a good idea," Gibbs replied.

"Even without Naps squeezing _Sugar Street,_ bootlegged liquor, especially decent liquor, is expensive for an independent club. And no one can do anything about it because everyone is forced to work in the shadows just so people can have a drink."

"Prohibition," Gibbs said as he lifted his bottle of beer to his lips. Clearly a beer would do just fine in place of Bourbon. "The most ridiculous law ever made."

"The law that spawned this mess," Tim muttered as he took a swig. The quality wasn't great but it had the same effect. "All those idiots should have seen something like this coming. Temperance is one thing and a good thing because I've seen what alcohol can do to a man and his family."

He paused for a moment while memories bubbled to the surface. A childhood friend, Dicky Newsome, had a father who drank too much. Dicky had told him all about how his father would come home drunk as a skunk and fight with his mother. Apparently, Dicky's father was a mean drunk. His friend was always complaining about the rotten things his father said to his mother, his brother and himself.

While his father didn't drink, he empathized with his friend. His father was a demanding taskmaster, always pushing him to do better even when his best was leaps and bounds ahead of his classmates. And his father dismissed even his best work, saying that he could always do better. It had been hard to grow up with a man that was never pleased with anything he had done. But at least his father's demanding and abrasive personality had led to getting into MIT at a young age. He might not have had the most loving father, but he at least knew that his father wanted the best for his son.

Dicky's father only redeeming quality was that he never raised his hand and he managed to keep his drinking to times when he wasn't on duty so could still provide for his family. It was small comfort though because his father's drinking made Dicky's family life hard and unhappy and no child deserved that.

He sighed. "But completely banning alcohol spawned people like Jimmy Naps and all the crime that comes with him. There are still plenty of drunks out there, so I'm pretty sure it didn't fix the problem either."

"Probably not," Gibbs replied contemplatively. "But no one can be right all the time. So, don't be too hard on them, Tim. They're politicians. And most of them are lawyers."

Tim chuckled as he began to eat. At the first bite, he realized how hungry he actually was and he ate ravenously. He had let his worry steal his appetite but now that Gibbs was there, he felt better. The rest of the meal passed in silence. Gibbs was a man of few words to begin with and both of them were preoccupied by their food.

When they finished, Tim gathered their plates and transferred them to the sink.

"Sarah's a good cook," Gibbs said.

"She learned from my dad," he replied. When Gibbs looked at him, he explained. "My grandmother passed when my dad and his brothers were young. As the oldest, he learned to cook their meals. He would cook for us on weekends and Sarah would help."

"You didn't learn from him?"

"I learned enough to get by," he replied wryly. He knew now that was one of the sources of tension between him and his father. His father thought that he hadn't placed any value on the lessons he had tried to instill in his son. But that wasn't true. He knew his path would be different than his father's, that he wouldn't be joining the Navy, and he knew he would need different skills to accomplish his goals. "Speaking of, I wouldn't mind any advice you might have for me."

Gibbs looked at him and after a moment he replied, "Relax." Blinking, he realized that his shoulders were tensed up. Taking a breath, he allowed his shoulders to sag before he straightened his posture until he was sitting erect, just as his father had drilled into him. Gibbs smiled slightly at his old habits. "You're undercover as yourself, McGee. Don't try to be something you aren't."

Tim nodded but he wasn't convinced.

"I'm worried," he confessed in a rush. "I know you're going to say I shouldn't but I'm not a natural undercover agent like Tony and I can't lie. And this is Jimmy Napolitano. He's smart and he doesn't suffer fools or liars. I mean, look at what happened to Terry Spooner."

"Yeah, that's a concern. But you could also get hit by a car crossing the street," Gibbs replied.

He blinked in surprise. "Good point," he said. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a watch. It was almost eight o'clock. "I need to get going," he said as he hurried to collect his coat and hat.

"I'll wait here," Gibbs replied.

Tim nodded as he pulled open his door.

"McGee," Gibbs called.

Turning around, Tim saw him hold up a pair of round spectacles. "Thanks," he said as he pulled them on. "I'm glad these things aren't real but it makes me look the part." Gibbs nodded. "You know that I'm going to have to shut the lights off, Boss?"

Gibbs took a seat at the table and kicked up his feet onto the nearest chair. He leaned back, nodded and closed his eyes. "Break a leg, McGee."

"Thanks," Tim replied dryly as he shut off the light and closed the door, locking it behind him. He pulled on his hat and adjusted his glasses before he made his way out of the apartment building.

He had barely stepped outside when he heard someone call his name. He turned towards the voice and noticed Jimmy Napolitano's driver and personal body guard Sal Balducci flanked by someone he didn't recognize. Tim had seen Sal with Jimmy Napolitano a few times from a distance and he was a distinctive man with his large size and permanent scowl.

"Thom Gemcity," the unknown man said in a thick British accent. He was tall, well-built and had sandy-blond hair.

"Yes," he replied. "And you are?"

"Ian Hitch," he replied. The name was unfamiliar but he wasn't surprised. Napolitano had a large payroll. Tim couldn't pretend to think that he, Gibbs and Tony knew everyone. "Mr. Napolitano sent me to escort you to your meeting."

Tim nodded and followed the men to their car, which was parked a short distance away. Ian opened the back door and allowed him to enter the car first. After he slid across the seat, Ian joined him while Sal took the wheel.

Perhaps Mr. Hitch was more muscle. He could feel Ian's piece poking him in the side. He shifted closer to the door as Sal pulled the car onto the roadway.

Even though he wasn't being poked by Hitch's gun, he was still very conscious of the fact that he was in a very small enclosed space with two well-armed men. And he was also very aware that he only had a small knife. It took everything he had to keep his expression neutral and his posture relaxed.

They drove through the city streets and stopped at a posh apartment building near the center of the city. Ian motioned for Tim to enter the building and then led him to an elevator which took them to the fifth floor. They walked down the hallway to the corner apartment and opened the door. Tim stepped into the entrance hall and removed his coat and hat, which were taken by a maid.

As she left, Ian looked at Tim expectantly.

"What? You brought me here," he said. "You tell me what's next."

Ian smiled. "Before we take you to see Mr. Napolitano, there's one matter to address," he said.

"What's that?" Tim asked cautiously.

"Hold out your arms," Sal said.

"We need to make sure you aren't packing," Hitch replied as Sal began to roughly frisk him. "Mr. Napolitano doesn't trust anyone."

When Sal pronounced Tim clean, having missed his knife, Tim glared at Sal as he readjusted his clothes. "You could have taken it a little easier on the suit. It's my best one." Sal didn't look amused but the corner of Hitch's mouth was slightly upturned. He would bet that his best suit wasn't half as nice as Ian's worst one.

"This way," Hitch said as he led Tim through a plush living room towards a closed door. Hitch knocked and after a moment, he opened the door. "Mr. Napolitano, Mr. Gemcity is here."

"Good. Good. Come on in, Gemcity," Napolitano called. Tim entered an opulent office and looked around. The floor was covered with plush carpeting that made it feel like he was walking on air. Bookshelves to his right were filled from floor to ceiling and a large mahogany desk stood to his left. In front of him was a small seating area with a couple of sofas on either side of a small coffee table. A lit fireplace was on the far wall.

Napolitano was seated at the desk which meant that he would be forced to stand which wasn't surprising. It was a power play and for the moment, he would deal with it.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Gemcity. I've heard a lot about you," he said as Tim stopped in front of the desk.

He looked at James Napolitano. He was a portly man and mostly bald. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit that made Tim feel shabby in his own modest suit. He unconsciously smoothed the coarse fabric as he admired the fine wool Jimmy's suit was made from. Being a mob boss definitely had its perks.

Like Terry Spooner, he knew Napolitano to see but that was as far as it went. Working for Willie Taylor meant that he was only to patronize Willie's club. But since he had become unemployed, he had ventured into the _Tin Angel_ a few times to catch a show since they booked some of the best jazz bands in town. He had seen Jimmy there a few times but this was the first time they had spoken to one another.

"A pleasure, Mr. Napolitano. And I can honestly say I have heard a lot about you as well," he replied.

Jimmy chuckled good-naturedly and replied, "Of course. I won't pretend that you are a stupid man, Mr. Gemcity, so I won't explain why you are here. You know why you are here."

"I do," he replied as he stuck his clasped hands behind his back. Falling into parade rest was habit he had formed as a child of a naval officer. Whenever his father would lecture him, this was how he was to stand. Now it allowed him to hide the fact that his hands were shaking slightly. It was taking nearly everything he had to keep his expression neutral and his voice even.

"I did some checking and everyone tells me that you are the best there is, Mr. Gemcity," Napolitano said as he stood and walked over to a small liquor cabinet. He turned and followed Jimmy's path with his eyes. "Would you like a drink, Thom?" he asked as he poured a glass of some sort of liquor.

"I don't mix liquor with business, Mr. Napolitano," he said firmly. It was a good rule to have for any occasion but it was especially relevant while dealing with mob bosses.

Napolitano nodded. "Do me a favor would ya? Stand at ease. I ain't inspecting the troops, Gemcity." He jolted and relaxed his posture even further. "Or do you prefer to go by, Timothy, Mr. McGee?"

Unsurprised that Napolitano knew his real name, Tim replied, "You can call me Tim. Thom is my business name."

Jimmy turned around and looked at him. "Business name?"

"A wise person once told me that anonymity deflects more bullets than body armor," Tim replied as casually as he could manage. "By using Thom E. Gemcity for my business endeavors, I hope to keep Timothy McGee out of the Feds' sights while I'm walking down the street."

"That's clever," Napolitano replied as he examined Tim. "Clearly since you are standing here rather than in the joint, it's worked for you."

"Partially," Tim replied.

Jimmy examined him. "You worked for the Navy."

Tim nodded. "Port Security," he said. "I was let go," he added unnecessarily.

"Why is that?" Jimmy asked.

Tim frowned. He knew perfectly well that Jimmy knew why he had been let go. He wouldn't have been brought in for this interview if he hadn't been fully vetted by Jimmy's people. But he decided to answer anyway. "My sister is attending Waverly University. She was having trouble paying her tuition. I couldn't afford to give her money on my salary so I took a second job to help her out. My boss caught wind of my nighttime activities when the club I worked for was raided."

Jimmy took a sip of his drink and motioned towards the sitting area. Tim walked over to the sofa and took a seat as Jimmy sat. They were facing each other with the small table between them. "Well somehow you managed to avoid the big house."

Tim smiled wryly as he adjusted his glasses. "Because of Mr. Gemcity. He ran the club's books, not Timothy McGee. So, when the club was raided, they couldn't prove that I had actually done anything illegal other than visit a club that sold liquor."

"Clever," Napolitano said. "Is that why you wear those spectacles too? I doubt you need them."

Smiling slightly, he removed the glasses and tucked them into his coat pocket.

"Part of Mr. Gemcity's persona," he admitted. "Helps me play the part and for some reason, people think that wearing glasses makes you look smarter." Napolitano chuckled. "Most people don't realize I don't need them."

"You weren't arrested when _Sugar Street_ was raided?" Napolitano asked.

He shook his head. "I hadn't been drinking that night," he replied. "Since the cops had other fish to fry, they let me go. But the club was popular with sailors and a navy liaison was called in when the police found sailors among the patrons."

"You were recognized and reported," Napolitano inferred.

He nodded. "It didn't matter that they didn't find me with a drink in hand," he said. "It was enough that the Navy didn't want to keep me around. If I was willing to patronize an illegal club, they worried I might be corruptible and the Navy doesn't want a corruptible man securing our ports."

"Very unfortunate," Jimmy said without a hint of sympathy.

"What is unfortunate," he said sourly, "Is that without my ONI salary, I couldn't afford to help my sister with her tuition and that meant she had to take on a night job to pay for school. I'm not doing my job." Jimmy looked at him questioningly.

He knew he shouldn't allow himself to be so emotional because it opened him up to the risk of letting something slip. But in this case, he was genuinely upset that this mission had impacted Sarah as much as it had. She had it hard enough since their father refused to pay for her to attend college. He wasn't in the business of financing a 'husband hunting expedition' as their father put it. If Sarah wanted to go to school, she had to pay for it herself. Sarah had been upset but she was still determined to attend Waverly and as her big brother, he was going to do everything to help her get her degree.

"I'm her big brother and our parents are on the other side of the country. It is my job to look after her. If I'm not working, I can't do that," Tim finished.

Jimmy nodded. "Family is important, Timothy, and I understand why you're upset about your sister's financial situation. But I know that you have been working."

Tim nodded. "It wasn't much. Willie Taylor didn't have a big business and it took a while to straighten out his finances. When I was still working for the Navy, it was enough to help my sister, but it wasn't enough to live on. Especially since his profits were down since had been raided and couldn't serve liquor. Luckily, he had connections in the music world and he got some of the best bands to play his club or else he would have gone under months ago. Still, he couldn't pay much and I just got by. I was lucky that I saved up a bit or I'd be on the street."

"Your sister doesn't know you were fired?"

Tim shook his head. "She knows that I was fired but she doesn't know why the navy let me go. She also doesn't know that I've taken on the less than legal work."

"You don't want her to be disappointed with you," Jimmy said as he sipped his drink again. Tim shook his head. "You don't want her to see you as a criminal."

He shook his head again, unhappy that he was forced to share his personal life with Napolitano. As far as he was concerned, he had shared far too much information with a known mobster. Logically he knew that Napolitano knew all of this before he was asked to interview for the job, but he still didn't like it.

"Again, this is for her protection," he said. "And it has worked just as my business name has protected my employers," he replied bringing them back onto topic.

"That is true," Jimmy replied as he took a sip of his drink. "It's a shame what happened to your last employer. What did you say his name was? Willie Taylor?" Tim nodded. "Shame what happened to him." Napolitano looked at him in such a way that he knew it had been Napolitano who had ordered Willie killed. "But it was a good opportunity for his brother and good for me because that freed you up employment-wise. And right now, I have a good opportunity for you."

Tim paused for a heartbeat. Like he had told Gibbs, he had suspected that Napolitano had been squeezing _Sugar Street_ in an attempt to put the club out of business. Willie had been killed last month in what had been billed by the police as a street robbery gone wrong. But everyone in the business knew that was a lie.

Willie's brother now ran the club and he hadn't kept him on as the club's accountant. Napolitano had wanted Willie's club, _Sugar Street_ and Willie hadn't wanted to sell. So, Jimmy had Willie bumped off and took _Sugar Street_. That would explain how they could serve booze again. With Napolitano's weight behind the club, they could pay the local authorities to look the other way.

Suddenly the pieces fell into place. Napolitano must have suspected for a while that Spooner had been stealing from him. Had Napolitano knocked off Willie Taylor not just for his club but for his accountant too? Had Napolitano wanted him as his new accountant since he had learned that Spooner was stealing?

The thought that Naps had been eyeing him for so long was chilling and it would explain why he couldn't get another job. James Napolitano had wanted him and had made sure no one else had hired him before he had disposed of Spooner. He wondered if he had done anything to make Naps suspect that he was undercover. Then he wondered if he was going to have a choice in this employment matter.

"Before we get too far along here," he said carefully. "I would like to ask you a question."

"What's that?" Napolitano asked.

"Am I going to be given the opportunity to turn down this job?" he asked partially afraid of the answer. He wanted to work for Jimmy because that's what his mission was. But he wanted to make sure it was on his terms.

Jimmy laughed heartily allowing him to relax slightly. "Tim, my boy, of course you're going to be given the opportunity to turn this down," he said. "This is a sensitive position and I don't want an unwilling man taking care of my finances. You might be tempted to do something stupid."

"Like Terry Spooner," Tim supplied. It had been the elephant in the room that both had been trying to ignore. But he couldn't avoid the topic. It had to be addressed before they went too far.

Napolitano's smile disappeared abruptly. "That was a very unfortunate incident. And I'd rather leave that in the past. But I understand why you don't."

He nodded. "He stole from you?" Tim asked. "Or attempted to steal from you?"

"He did steal from me," Napolitano replied.

"You discovered it." Napolitano nodded. "You recovered your money."

"Every last cent," Napolitano replied firmly. "My dear father, rest his soul, used to say: Quando la sua vita rivolge intorno a rubare i dieci centesimi delle altre persone, non è sorpreso se accende un dieci centesimi di tanto in tanto." He shook his head. He didn't speak any Italian. "When your life revolves around stealing other people's dimes, don't be surprised if it turns on a dime every now and then. Terry's life turned on a dime."

Tim wondered why Napolitano would answer his questions. But then again, he hadn't admitted to doing anything or ordering anything done to Spooner so even if Tim didn't take the job, he couldn't pin Spooner's demise on Napolitano. Nor could he prove that the money stolen had been from an illegal source.

So that meant that Jimmy was telling him this so he knew that Spooner hadn't been killed on a whim. He looked at Napolitano. He noticed slight facial tics in Jimmy's expression which told him that he hadn't been happy with what had happened with Terry. But it wasn't just from a business perspective.

"You liked Terry," he replied, realizing what the tics meant.

Napolitano's smile returned, slightly. "You are an observant man, Mr. McGee. I did. He was a friend, which is why it was such an unfortunate incident. I'm sorry for what happened but Terry got greedy and he tried to steal from me. No man steals from Jimmy Napolitano and gets away with it. I tell you this so you know that you know that I don't dump business associates at the drop of a hat. You show me loyalty and I'll return the favor."

Tim was suddenly reminded of Gibbs.

"I've learned over the years that money can buy you nearly everything but when you get in a pinch, money won't buy true loyalty," Napolitano said. "And that's what you need when you are backed into a corner, a loyal friend at your side. Terry turned on me, which was far worse than losing a bit of money."

Despite what Napolitano was and what he did, Tim could respect the man for his views. He knew what it was like to have a loyal partner who had your back. And he knew what it was like to have his partner's back. He, Gibbs and Tony were always going to be there for each other.

Tim nodded. "That is something I can truly respect, Mr. Napolitano. Too often loyalty is undervalued."

"It is," Jimmy replied after taking a sip from his glass. "Having said that. Once you agree to take the job, there's no backing out. I can't afford to have someone knowing the inner workings of my business loose on the street."

"I understand," Tim replied. "Then let's talk compensation."

Jimmy smiled broadly. "Good!"

"I haven't agreed to take the job just yet," he said quickly. "This job has inherent risks. The Feds. Your competitors. Don't think I don't realize that you could have gone through me to get _Sugar Street_."

"That's a valid point," Jimmy said, obviously impressed. "Which is why you'll have a personal body guard."

"Personal body guard?" Tim looked at Napolitano incredulously even as he grew worried. If he had a body guard on him day and night that would make communicating with his partners a hell of a lot harder. "Is he guarding me or your money?"

Jimmy laughed. "I like your sense of humor! He's guarding you. You think some stupido I hire for muscle and because he can shoot a gun is going to understand the books enough to know whether you're stealing from me?"

"Forgive me, but I don't exactly trust you just yet, Mr. Napolitano. Trust must be earned," he replied firmly. "And it is a bit alarming to find out that a complete stranger is going to be following me every waking moment."

"I can understand that especially if you're like me and value your privacy. But you need to remember that trust is a two-way street, my boy," Jimmy said as he stood and walked over to the liquor cabinet. He refilled his glass and returned to the sitting area although he didn't sit. "You remember that if you take this job."

Tim nodded.

Jimmy set his drink on the table and walked over to the fireplace. He put another log on the fire and stirred the fire with the long metal poker.

"During Mr. Spooner's tenure, there were eight attempts to kidnap him or turn him on me. Nine men paid with their lives and the rest have learned to keep their distance," Napolitano said as he replaced the poker onto its hook. "This is something you've never encountered working for the small-time club owners, Mr. McGee."

"No," he replied. It wasn't surprising that Napolitano's moneyman would be a target but it was alarming. It was going to be a big enough risk trying to take Jimmy down. And now if he took the job he'd have to worry about outsiders trying to take him out. He didn't like the prospects of viewing everyone he met as a potential threat to his person. "Not something I encountered at all."

"For that same reason, I have a secure apartment for you and your new shadow," Jimmy said as he sat down and picked up his glass. "I understand that this will be a considerable step up from the hole you live in now."

Tim couldn't stop himself from laughing. He was surprised at the bitterness in his voice. It had become far too common in his voice as of late.

"Anything short of a box on the sidewalk is better than the place I live now," he replied. He didn't need a luxury home but since he had been fired by the Navy, he had been forced to take a shabby one-bedroom apartment in a bad neighborhood. He sobered. "But I don't want to feel like a prisoner either. My body guard will live with me?" He really didn't like the sound of that. It would be bad enough to be forced to room with a stranger but again, it would make his real job much harder. "I haven't had a roommate since my first year at college and I didn't particularly like it then either."

"It is a necessary evil that must be dealt with," Napolitano said firmly. "You'll be free to come and go as you like, Mr. McGee. I have better things to do than keep tabs on your whereabouts. Now you give me reason to be concerned about your actions and then we have a different story," Jimmy replied, his tone becoming slightly annoyed.

Tim paused a minute. He was being too suspicious and without good cause. Napolitano hadn't given him any reason to make him suspicious. Jimmy was known to be a tough negotiator and a shrewd businessman. And of course, he dealt ruthlessly with his enemies. But he had an affable personality in social situations, or so he had heard.

"I'm sorry Mr. Napolitano, for my suspicions. You have not given me a reason for my behavior," he replied. "Prudence is a virtue but I allowed myself to take it too far."

"It was beginning to grate," Napolitano replied as he sipped his drink. "But men like us get to where we are by trusting only a few. If we trusted everyone, then we'd be in a ditch somewhere."

The tension eased as Tim nodded. "You had an apartment for Terry as well?"

Napolitano nodded. "It isn't the same one, if that's what you're thinking."

"I was," he replied. "I don't like the idea of sleeping in a dead man's bed."

"I don't blame you one bit," Napolitano agreed.

"Perhaps we should return to business?" he asked. Napolitano nodded. "A full-time bodyguard and an apartment. Shall we talk about the rest of the particulars?"

Napolitano sat down. Over the next hour, they hammered out details about his work schedule, where he would work and other small technicalities, such as only frequenting Napolitano's establishments.

Napolitano was a good negotiator and Tim found the challenge enjoyable. If he was reading Napolitano correctly, he too was enjoying the challenge.

"We've been avoiding the subject for almost an hour," he said as they looked at each other expectantly.

"We have," Tim replied knowing what Jimmy meant. "Money."

He might be a lousy liar but he could haggle with the best of them and at times, better than the best of them. Gibbs had the gravitas that seemed to work magic with merchants and Tony had his 'tough-bluff' style that worked well for him. He often left the negotiating up to Gibbs or Tony but he could hold his own when needed.

Unlike the others, he based his negotiations on the going price of goods and services. He researched and when he had enough information, he would use that knowledge to get the best price. It had served him well when they had been stranded in Tunis for three days with limited funds. While Gibbs and Tony had gone looking for work to earn enough cash to continue their journey, he had bargained with their remaining funds for food. In addition to their first hot meal in a week, he had stretched their funds enough to purchase rations to keep them until they were able to buy passage on a steamer three days later.

Napolitano really wasn't any different from the Tunisian merchants. The difference was that he had the service that Napolitano desired. And all the evidence he had showed that Napolitano was actively recruiting him and that put him in a position of power. Hedging his bets, he decided to start high. "Five hundred a week."

Napolitano leaned back and laughed. "You shoot high, my boy. You're asking for the moon."

"But we have a starting point," he countered.

"That we do," Napolitano replied. "Five hundred a month."

"One twenty-five a week is a bargain for what you are asking for, Mr. Napolitano," he said quickly. "Your organization encompasses dozens of clubs and hundreds associates in multiple fields of work. Legitimacy issues aside, that's quite a lot to keep tabs on. Then you're adding physical risks to my person and creative accounting into the mix? Only a fool would work for so little."

"Creative accounting?" Napolitano asked, amused. "Never heard it put quite like that."

"If you hope to avoid Capone's fate, you'll need to make sure your accounts are all above board," he said. Napolitano frowned. Capone's conviction on numerous charges of tax evasion and his subsequent sentence to eleven years in prison with hefty fines had rattled those in the business. It put extra pressure on those in the accounting business and meant that good accountants were worth their weight in gold. And he was very good. "Four hundred a week," he countered.

"One seventy-five," Napolitano countered.

He resisted the urge to laugh. One-seventy-five was no better than one-fifty. "Don't insult me, Mr. Napolitano," he said before he thought better of it. He noticed a slight smile tug at the corner of Jimmy's mouth. "You and I both know that my services are worth far more than that." Jimmy nodded and motioned for him to counteroffer. "I won't work for less than three-fifty a week," Tim replied firmly.

Jimmy examined him intently for a moment. He felt like the other man was sizing up his resolve.

"Two-fifty," Napolitano countered.

He considered the offer but based on Napolitano's subtle body language he had a feeling that he could go higher. He decided on one last push even though he would settle for Napolitano's last offer. He shook his head. "Three hundred," Tim replied.

"Done!" Jimmy replied holding out his hand. A little surprised but extremely pleased, Tim shook Jimmy's hand firmly. They both smiled broadly, clearly pleased by their negotiations. Three hundred a week was a king's ransom but evidently Napolitano thought he was worth it. "You're a good negotiator, Mr. McGee. I might need to employ your skills in my business endeavors."

"We'll see," he said to Naps' delight. It wasn't a 'no'. "I'll endeavor to prove my worth." Napolitano nodded approvingly. "If you're still offering," Tim said. "I'll take you up on that drink, Mr. Napolitano."

"Business is over, eh?" he asked good-naturedly as he stood. He poured Tim a drink and refilled his own glass. "To a profitable partnership."

Tim nodded and clinked his glass against Napolitano's.

After they had sipped their drinks, which turned out to be an excellent scotch, Napolitano said, "Now that we are business partners, you can call me Jimmy. I'll have my people draw up a contract to make our terms official. I'll have them dropped off at your place in the morning and once you sign the dotted line, we'll get you into your new apartment."

"Sounds good to me," Tim replied as the liquor warmed his sore throat. After talking for more than an hour, he was happy to have something to drink although he knew he needed to be cautious. He didn't want to get corked.

"It isn't official yet, not until you sign the contract anyway, but," Jimmy said. "I would like to introduce you to your new best friend. You might want to put those glasses back on."

Startled, Tim looked at Jimmy. He was going to meet his new body guard? Already? Jimmy must have been confident that he would take the job. And that meant that his new shadow was going with him back to his old apartment where Gibbs was waiting for him…

"Ricky!" he called. "Show him in."

He hastily set his drink onto the table and put his glasses on. Tim turned around just as the door opened. For a moment, he could only see Ricky, Napolitano's son, but then Ricky disappeared and he was replaced by a tall man in a dark suit.

"Tim, meet Anthony DiNozzo," Jimmy said.

Thankfully Ricky hadn't stayed in the room and Napolitano was behind him. That meant that Tony was the only witness to his expressions of shock followed by cool relief. He quickly recovered and held his hand out. Tony shook it firmly without indicating that he knew Tim whatsoever. Then again, Tony had known he was walking into a meeting with his partner. "Timothy McGee," he said.

"Anthony DiNozzo. You didn't say he was Irish, Mr. Napolitano," Tony said looking at Tim critically.

"I'm not Irish," Tim replied darkly. Tony was speaking in a thick Italian accent and he looked at Tim with disdain. It was a safe bet that this was part of his persona but it was annoying none-the-less. It wasn't the first time he had been given him a hard time because of his surname and Tony knew it was a sore point with him. "I'm an American born and raised."

"Then what's with the McSurname?" Tony asked.

"It's Irish whether you like it or not," Tim retorted with a hint of annoyance. Leave it to Tony to come up with another nickname starting with 'Mc' even when under cover. Ever since Tim had transferred to Gibbs' team, Tony had made up weird nicknames for him using his surname.

"Whatever," Tony replied, rolling his eyes.

"DiNozzo," Napolitano said sharply. "You need to play nice. From now on, you don't leave his side. Anything happens to him, you better be dead." Tim smirked at Tony. Napolitano sounded a lot like Gibbs for an instant.

"Got it, Mr. Napolitano," Tony replied. "Ricky explained it to me and you don't have anything to worry about. You won't find a better shot than me. If someone comes after your associate, he won't live to tell the tale."

"If he gives you any trouble, you tell me, and we'll find you someone else, Tim," Jimmy said.

"I'm sure once we get to know each other, we'll be fine," he replied. "But I will let you know if I find Mr. DiNozzo's services to be unsatisfactory."

"Good," Jimmy said. "The wheels on this thing are going to start turning fast. You start Monday, Tim."

Tim nodded and shook Napolitano's outstretched hand once more. "I look forward to it," he replied.

"Excellent!" Jimmy said as he drained the rest of his drink. "I think this calls for a small celebration. You'll be my guest at the _Tin Angel_ tonight."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Whew, that was a long one! Not as many new characters in this chapter but lots of background on Tim and most importantly, he's officially employed by a mobster!

Just to put the money part into perspective, $300 a week would be ten times the average wage earned in 1932 and well above the average salary of an accountant. The average weekly salary for an accountant in 1932 was around $50 which is equivalent to about $900 today. Tim's salary of $300 a week would be equivalent of $5,400 per week today. He definitely went from poor to upper crust very quickly!


	4. Chapter 3 - Promotions

**Chapter 3 – Promotions**

 _Gibbs_

* * *

Gibbs wasn't normally one to worry about his people. DiNozzo and McGee were the best, which is why he had picked them for his team. He trusted them to do what was necessary to complete their mission and come home afterwards. But DiNozzo was still a no show and McGee had been gone for nearly six hours.

Nothing worried him more than the thought that his boys could be hurt or worse. They weren't family by blood but from their shared experiences, they were as close to family as anyone. And it wasn't lost on him that he was old enough to be their father.

Well that wasn't entirely true. Tony was only fifteen years his junior. He was, however, old enough to be Tim's father. Or as he preferred to think: Tim was young enough to be his son. He didn't feel quite as old that way.

But that wasn't the point. They were all undercover trying to take down a very dangerous mobster. And he couldn't put it out of his mind that something had gone very wrong.

Why else would Tony be called in for a special meeting? If he had been discovered, that meeting could have been a cover to dispose of him. And as for Tim, the same could go for him. And the more he thought of it, the more he believed it. If it hadn't been a setup, Tim would have been home hours ago.

Normally he would work in his basement when he couldn't sleep or if he needed to calm his mind. But stuck in McGee's apartment, that wasn't an option.

Sitting alone in McGee's dark apartment seemed to conjure horrible scenarios which all seemed to end with the pair dead. When McGee had left, he tried to take a nap, but every creak and footfall jolted him awake. The sounds seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was disconcerting and reminded him of a time he had hoped to forget. Once, he even swore he could smell fresh wood, tree sap and the acrid stench of gunpowder before his eyes snapped open and he realized he was in Tim's apartment. He had given up on trying to sleep after that.

The hours passed slowly, marked by a clock in the adjoining apartment. As the hour crew late, he found himself staring at the door in anticipation any time he heard footsteps approaching the door. He would tense and then let out a frustrated sigh when the footsteps continued on.

Unable to sit still any longer, he stood and began to pace in the darkness. Unfortunately, Tim's small apartment didn't provide a long distance to pace. A dozen steps in any direction and he was at a wall. But it did give him something to do and soon he fell into a rhythm, easing his mind.

From the neighboring apartment, he heard a clock chime. He paused to listen. He had long lost track of time.

One. Two.

Two o'clock. He growled in frustration. Too many things could have gone wrong tonight and he hated not knowing what was going on.

He glanced at the door, half tempted to go out and search for his people, but he thought better of it. It would be just his luck to leave just as Tim returned home. No, he was better off staying.

Leaving his pacing, he entered the kitchen and opened the ice box hoping that there was a least one more beer left. He fished a lighter out of his pocket and paused a moment to brush his thumb over the engraved eagle, anchor and globe. Pulling himself from his revelry, he returned his attention to the ice box. He was about to light his lighter so he could see when he heard keys rattling at the door.

Gibbs shut the fridge door and backed up into the shadowy corner of the kitchen, drawing his pistol as he heard a key in the lock. He couldn't tell who was at the door, but there were at least two of them.

Suddenly the door opened, and light spilled into the apartment from the hallway.

"I've never seen you drink that much, McGee," Tony said.

"I had four drinks in six hours, Tony," McGee replied. He felt cool relief wash over him. His boys were safe and together. "Hardly a binge. Well five if you count the one in Jimmy's apartment. But I never had an edge. Did you think was going to get drunk tonight?"

"Since I've never seen you drunk, I was wondering," Tony replied as he shut the door, cutting of the source of light. "You're such a goody two-shoes that you don't like to drink at all."

Gibbs relaxed and straightened which caught Tony's attention.

"Shh, someone's here," Tony said. He heard DiNozzo draw his pistol.

"Yeah," Tim said. "It's…"

But Tony cut him off as he turned the corner. "Stay there McGee while I check this out."

"Tony, it's…"

"Hands where I can see them!" Tony said.

Suddenly Tim turned on the light and he was faced with DiNozzo holding a gun on him. "Relax Tony. It's Gibbs."

"Oh," Tony said relaxing. He tucked his pistol back into its holster. "Hey Boss." Tony turned on Tim. "You knew he was here? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Until now, I couldn't because we were surrounded by other people," Tim countered. "And I tried just now. You wouldn't let me finish speaking," Tim replied. Tim looked at him. "I found Tony, Boss."

"I see that," Gibbs replied, his nose wrinkling as he tucked his pistol away. They smelled of booze and cigarette smoke. "You two decide to go out on the town?"

"Well it wasn't our idea," Tony replied.

"Then whose idea was it?" he demanded. After waiting six hours, he was annoyed that he had worried about his young agents while they were out at a club drinking hooch.

"James Napolitano's," Tim replied. He felt his annoyance disappear instantly. Well that changed things. "I couldn't exactly refuse his offer to take me out for a drink."

"So, what's your excuse?" he asked turning his gaze to Tony.

"He's my new body guard," Tim replied with a grin before Tony could explain. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Body guard?" Gibbs asked.

"One of the 'perks' of the job. As Napolitano's accountant, I get a body guard, a new apartment and three hundred dollars," he said.

"A month?" Gibbs asked impressed. "Not bad. A hell of a lot more than we make at ONI."

"Not per month, Boss," Tony said looking at Gibbs. "Per week. You're looking at a McMoney bags now."

Gibbs looked at Tim in surprise. "He's paying you twelve hundred a month?"

"Yeah," Tim replied with a smile. "Jimmy isn't a small fish."

"Certainly explains why there're a lot of bootleggers," Tony replied with a smile. "The pay is better than anything else around. I was doing pretty good before but being his personal body guard comes with a hefty pay raise not to mention a nicer place."

"Don't forget what you're really paid to do," Gibbs said sternly.

Tim's smile disappeared instantly. "Of course not Boss," Tim said as he stood up straighter. Tony nodded quickly as well. "I understand that I'm going to be taking down Napolitano's network from the inside out. Doesn't mean that I shouldn't be happy about being well-paid while I do it. You know, as compensation."

"No, I suppose not," Gibbs replied. "But you can do your actual job and report what happened tonight."

"Well," Tim started but Gibbs cut him off.

"Not you. I know how you got the job." He turned his gaze to Tony.

Tony looked shocked but then smiled roguishly.

"You want to know how I happened to get the job as the personal body guard to Jimmy Napolitano's accountant, arguably the most important man next to Napolitano himself?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"Pretty obvious question, I guess," Tony replied as they made their way to the small table.

"Yeah," Tim replied. "You shot up the ranks pretty quickly. You've been in Napolitano's employment for just over a year and you've already been put in charge of running liquor for his flagship club?"

"You say that like I shouldn't have been promoted," Tony retorted.

"I didn't mean it that way Tony," Tim said hastily. "It's just quick. You were only in his organization for six months before you joined the _Tin Angel_ bootleggers and another three months before you were running its liquor."

Tony's expression darkened, and he wondered what McGee really knew about Tony's time in Napolitano's employment. Six months as an enforcer in Napolitano's employment wasn't a walk in the park and it would be like DiNozzo to protect his younger partner from the hard truths of the world.

"I'd have guessed that Blue would have been next in line," he said, interrupting before the boys began sniping at one another. "Blue's been working for Napolitano for years."

"Except that there are questions about Blue's loyalty," Tony said. He looked at Tony for an explanation. That was news to him. "Oh, Blue is loyal enough. He's been exceptionally loyal to the manager at the _Tin Angel_. But there have been grumblings that if push came to shove, Blue would side with the _Tin Angel_ first and Napolitano second."

"I'm sure that doesn't sit well with Napolitano," Tim said.

"It doesn't," Tony replied. "But Blue does a good job at the _Tin Angel,_ so Naps won't replace him especially since Blue isn't one to get his hands dirty. He'd rather let his boys do that kind of work. Jimmy needed someone who he knew wouldn't be afraid to mix it up if needed. Fortunately for you, I fit that bill. That's why they gave me the job. Also because I'm his most successful bootlegger to date."

Tim snorted. "Some of that was manufactured."

"Most of it wasn't," Tony said defensively. "It took a lot of work to get onto the team and more hard work to get promoted within." Tony looked thoughtful. "Inside information definitely helped but we didn't always have that. Coulda used it when J.D. was killed."

"Who was J.D.?" Tim asked.

"My predecessor," Tony replied. "J.D. Morris. He brought me onto the team and showed me the ropes. Taught me everything about bootlegging. We got to be pretty good friends before he was killed by one of Pell's boys when they tried to jump us for a shipment three months ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that Tony," Tim said sympathetically. Tony nodded appreciatively.

"Just proves my point that running security for the _Tin Angel's_ liquor isn't easy," Tony added.

"No it isn't," Tim conceded contritely. "Even with inside information."

He agreed with Tony. Running security for any bootlegging run was extremely difficult. Not only did you have to contend with the risk of being nabbed by the police, but you had to worry about the competition. And the competition wasn't afraid to use any force necessary to steal some product, especially the quality stuff that was meant for the _Tin Angel._

These days, that meant at least a dozen mid-major players and an untold number of free-lancers trying to make a name for themselves. Napolitano owned over a third of the clubs in Washington, but it was an empire that was constantly under attack. Tony had shared some harrowing stories of close calls with men who were trying to hijack their shipments of booze over the last year.

"Is Blue going to be a problem?" he asked. "You were promoted over him."

Tony shook his head. "Nah. I spoke with him tonight. He'd much rather sit tight in the _Tin Angel_ rather than risk his neck following McGee around. Now if Tim was a girl it might be a different story." Tim frowned. "I hear he's sweet on one of the Angel's regular singers."

"You're sure that you got the job because of how well you've run the _Tin Angel's_ liquor?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tony said firmly. "Naps said so himself when I met with him before Tim showed up. He said he was impressed with my work especially since I've had an up and coming mobster trying to muscle into the action as of late," Tony said. They looked at him. "Oh, I guess it's been a while since we talked. You might not have heard about this. I don't think it made the papers. So, we were bringing in a shipment from the river."

"You were jumped for your shipment," Gibbs said interrupting Tony because he could tell the young man was ramping up to tell a good story. And as much as he liked a good story, he needed Tony to cut to the chase. And at two in the morning, he had less patience than usual.

He had heard rumors about a gun battle over a shipment of liquor that had been brought in by boat, but he hadn't been aware that Tony had been involved.

"Attempted. They attempted to jump us for our shipment," Tony corrected. "La Grenouille's men tried to ambush us but I took some precautions and they paid off. There was a slight gun battle."

He knew that was an understatement. Rumor had it; four bodies had turned up as a result of that raid.

"The shooting down at the river," Tim mused. They looked at him. "I heard about the shootings from a friend. It hasn't been in the papers." He looked at Tim and wondered what friend would have this information. Only the police or those in the business would have known about the deaths. Unfortunately, Tim didn't elaborate so he made a mental not to ask the young man about his source later. Instead Tim asked, "La Grenouille? Is that Spanish?"

"French," Gibbs supplied. "Means the frog. La Grenouille is a Frenchman. He's been buying up some independent clubs and he took over Scott Pell's collection of clubs and more importantly his supply lines."

Tim looked puzzled. "Wasn't Pell murdered?" he asked.

Gibbs nodded.

"Found him floating down the Potomac with a lead life vest," Tony said. "Wish I could say it was in retribution for J.D.'s death but it wasn't. After bumping off Pell for his clubs, La Grenouille is now the largest owner of clubs behind Napolitano."

"So, what about the shooting at the docks?" Gibbs prompted.

"Right." Tony nodded. "Anyway, my precautions paid off and we were ready when the lead started to fly. We got three of them."

"I heard four," he interrupted.

Tony looked surprised. "Well he must have kicked it after he left the docks because we only found three bodies. They got two of our guys but not seriously. Anyway, they took off when they realized they were going to get themselves killed but I grabbed one before he could rabbit."

"You took someone captive?" Tim asked incredulously. "What did you do with him?"

"I took him but didn't keep him. Call it catch and release," Tony said impishly but his smile quickly faded. "I figured he could warn his boss that we weren't worth messing with if he didn't want dead employees. Although if I'd have known who I had, I would have kept him." They looked at Tony expectantly. "His name was Trent Kort. He was in charge of the failed raid and he's the Frog's right-hand man."

He and Tim looked at Tony incredulously. "Ok so how did you get promoted if you released La Grenouille's right hand man?" Tim asked. "That's a pretty big gaff."

"I know," Tony replied sharply. Tony frowned and shook his head. "But I didn't find out until I asked Blue if he knew Kort since they were both English. Blue tipped me off about him. Lucky for me, I interrogated him in private and no one else knew his name. I'm the only one who knew who we had in hand."

"Good thing," Gibbs replied. "But that may not help you later. Can your boys identify him? If Napolitano finds out you let Kort go, would he pull you from Tim's detail?"

Tony shrugged. "Who knows? If it happens, hopefully by then, Tim and I will have been together for a while and he can request to keep me on." Gibbs nodded. "But I think that chances are slim. We had to move fast to avoid the cops. It took everything we had to get the liquor loaded into our truck off the docks before the law showed up. I don't think that any of the boys got a good look at him. Until I talked to Blue, I didn't suspect that he was anything more than muscle. I mean, who would expect that the frog's second in command to be so hands on?"

"It isn't exactly bright," Tim said. "He could have gotten himself killed."

"Right," Tony replied. "Instead of dead, I just pissed him off. He vowed to kill me if we ever cross paths again." They looked at him, but Tony shrugged. "It's not the first time someone said they'd kill me. No one has succeeded yet."

He didn't say it, but he thought that having someone like Trent Kort as an enemy wasn't a good thing. He'd heard about Kort through his sources and everything indicated that he was ruthless, more than willing to go the extra mile for his employer and that he wasn't squeamish about killing.

"I'm pretty sure Kort was the one that bumped off Pell and gave La Grenouille _One Club_ as an anchor to his growing business empire," Tony added.

"That's a coup," Tim said. " _One_ is exclusive and well-regarded. I hear it's a favorite among congress." Tim smiled a crooked smile. "Which is ironic."

Tony shrugged. "Since no one knew that I let Kort get away and since I had successfully saved the _Tin Angel's_ best liquor from being stolen, that got the attention of Jimmy Napolitano," Tony said returning to their original conversation. "Which apparently was a good thing because when Spooner was killed, his body guard got the axe too, although not literally."

He frowned. No one had been surprised that Spooner had been killed after it got out that he had been stealing from Napolitano. But the brutal nature of his death had been shocking. He saw how it affected Tim and he knew that Tim had more to worry about now than he had a week ago. It certainly upped the stakes of their mission.

"I didn't know Spooner had a body guard," Tim said.

"Neither did I," Tony said. "But then again, Spooner hardly frequented any of Jimmy's clubs. I hear that he didn't like crowds. I guess too many attempts to get at him had Spooner permanently spooked."

"What happened to his bodyguard?" Tim asked.

"Little Ricky told me that he was transferred to a rather dangerous position and odds are that he won't survive it," Tony said. "Regardless of what happened to him, I think what's important here is that I'm McGee's new shadow. It couldn't have worked out much better."

"Not really," Tim replied. "I was worried that I'd have some stranger watching me all day and all night. And when Jimmy told me that I'd be meeting my bodyguard, all I could think of was Gibbs sitting in my apartment and how on earth I'd explain that. You don't know how relieved I was to see you standing in the doorway."

"Yeah I do. It was written all over your face," Tony said seriously. "Lucky for you Little Ricky didn't follow me into Napolitano's study. From your reaction, it would have been a dead giveaway that we knew each other. Then we'd really have been in hot water. You've got to work on that McGee. Now's not the time to have a lousy poker face."

"I know. I was taken off guard is all," Tim said hastily. "Ever since Fornell showed up at the diner this morning, I've been all balled up."

"Fornell?" Tony asked. "That's his name?" Tim nodded. "He's not one of Napolitano's usual messengers. I thought he was a cop."

"Me too," Tim replied.

"Hey," he said sharply. He wasn't in the mood to speculate about one of Napolitano's messengers even if the name did sound familiar. "Did McGee almost blow it?"

Tim winced. He hadn't meant to be so rough on the younger man, but he was tired, and they still had a lot of things to talk about yet.

"Almost," Tony said hastily. "But he didn't."

"We got lucky," Tim admitted. "I never guessed that I'd have a personal body guard if I took a job working for Jimmy. And I certainly didn't expect to meet him tonight before I even signed my contract. I don't work for Naps yet," Tim retorted.

"What do you mean, you don't work for Naps yet?" he asked.

"Oh," Tim said. "Napolitano is going to draw up a contract. Until I sign the contract, I don't actually work for Jimmy. I guess I could back out, but we shook on it which is why Tony is here." Tim looked at Tony. "I'm glad it's you Tony. My real job would have been a hell of a lot harder with some stranger hovering over my shoulder. It was sheer serendipity that you got the job."

"Serendipity?" Tony asked. "What kind of oil can uses a word like serendipity?"

Tim frowned. "It means that it was lucky, Tony," Tim replied sourly.

"Whatever, McGee," Tony replied.

"He isn't wrong, DiNozzo," he said curtly. "When we planned this mission, we expected that Tim would get hired as a low-level accountant and work his way up, just like you. We never expected that he'd be hired to run the books for Napolitano's illegal businesses from the start."

"Overachiever," Tony muttered but Tim grinned.

"It was serendipitous," he said wryly. Tony pulled a face at him and Tim grinned smugly at his partner. But before Tony could retort, he continued, "Focus. We have a lot to plan for and not a lot of time. And in case you two forgot, our jobs just got a harder and the stakes higher."

He was pleased to see that they both nodded and looked at each other. All of the tension between them had evaporated. Tim and Tony might fight like teenage brothers, but no one had your back like your brother when the stakes were high.

"Good. Now that you two are working together, you need to watch each other's backs. We'll figure out a new way to contact each other and set up a new reporting schedule," he said as the neighbor's clock started to chime again.

"Right Boss," Tim said. "And I'll know more once I start on Monday."

He caught Tim's arm. "That's something you need to cut out right now," he said. "Both of you." He watched as Tim and Tony shared a puzzled expression. He waved a finger at them. "No more 'Boss,'" he said. "The wrong person hears that and we're all sunk." They nodded. "Now let's get moving."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for all the kind reviews! I'll admit that once I got started into this story, it was a lot of fun trying to figure out how the various characters fit into this world. Momcat, I can't respond to you but you said you were reminded of _The Untouchables,_ there's a good reason for that. I'm pretty sure the image of Tim as a mobster accountant came after I watched the movie! Fortunately Sean Connery doesn't exist yet for Tony to drive Tim crazy with his impersonations!


	5. Chapter 4 - Pieces in Motion

**Author's Note:** Bear with me here. We have one more chapter of back story before things start moving forward. The challenge of doing a story like this is that you have to do a lot of world building and back story exposition to set the stage. We've gotten more on Tim and Tony's backstory. Now it's time to get more information on Leroy Jethro Gibbs before we move on.

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – Pieces in Motion**

 _Gibbs_

* * *

He looked around the Navy Yard wistfully as he walked along the familiar sidewalks. It had been nine months since he had last stepped foot on base. Some days he missed it more than he had ever imagined. He had loved serving in the marines and the bases he had been stationed at had been a second home.

But the Great War had changed everything. He had lost more friends than he could count and his experiences in the war affected him more than he cared to admit. And with the changes in his personal life, he knew he couldn't remain in the marines. Losing Shannon and Kelly had changed everything.

For a time, he had worked as a private eye with a man he had employed to help track down the man who had been responsible for their deaths. Mike Franks had taught him everything about how to be an investigator. Mike did it for the pay. He did because he found a purpose in serving others. He had married again and with his job, he was almost happy.

But when Prohibition became law, Mike had been disgusted and left the country for Mexico. On one hand, he was angry at his friend for leaving him behind over booze but on the other hand, he knew it was for the best. Franks lived a hard life. He smoked a lot. He drank a lot. And he wasn't exactly a gentleman.

In hindsight, with Frank's influence, he had become a different man and he wasn't happy with who he had become. Evidently his wife hadn't been happy with them either because she had filed for divorce and left him, cleaning out his bank account as she went.

He was still working as a private eye, but he had lost his purpose. A tumultuous and ill-advised marriage later left him wondering what he was doing with his life until he crossed paths with an old friend from the war.

Thomas Morrow recruited him into a top-secret program under the banner of the Office of Naval Intelligence. He had been the first civilian recruited into a highly classified counter-intelligence program christened the Naval Secret Service. The intention was that he and his team, once it was formed, would be sent overseas to acquire intelligence on foreign navies.

Joining the program had helped him to find his purpose again but it wasn't until he crossed paths a young man by the name of Anthony DiNozzo that he felt his life had meaning. He saw DiNozzo's potential right from the start, but he knew it would take work to mold the young man whose personality had led him to drift from city to city, rarely staying long enough to put down roots. He recruited DiNozzo into the program and took it as a personal challenge to train him. He had been rewarded with one of the most promising undercover agents he had ever met.

But his team wasn't complete. They needed someone who could understand the technology that they found. This time Morrow came through. He knew of a young man, the son of an old Navy buddy. At sixteen, he had gone to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for electrical engineering and then Johns Hopkins for mechanical engineering. Morrow recruited the young man and their team was complete.

When he first met McGee, he knew he had another diamond in the rough – really rough. The nervous and stammering young man was often too smart for his own good but he didn't lack courage. It took some effort instill an investigative mindset into the young man but in the meantime, he had realized that Morrow had found one of the best puzzle solvers and cipher crackers in the business. When McGee was faced with a problem, he didn't back down until he had solved it.

Both young men had risen to the occasion and absorbed his lessons. They had started working undercover in port security, first in Norfolk then in Baltimore. They worked well together, and Morrow quickly realized they were ready for their mission. Four years ago, they had been sent overseas to collect intelligence on foreign naval technology.

And again, they had been successful. He and Tony worked undercover to collect the information and evidence. Then Tim would figure out what it was, how it worked, draw schematics and put it in terms that anyone could understand. Their good work had drawn the attention of the Secretary of the Navy, which in turn drew the attention of Hoover when he gone in search of unknown agents for a specific undercover mission.

He entered the ONI building and hurried up the stairs to his Tom's office. It was Saturday, so the building was largely empty, which was a blessing. He still knew enough people in the building that he was worried about busting his cover.

He reached the Tom's office and knocked, waiting only a moment before his was told to enter.

"Gibbs," Morrow said, greeting Gibbs from his desk.

"Admiral," he replied cordially after shutting the door. He didn't want to risk being overheard.

He watched as Tom stood and looked him over. There was a striking difference between the two men. Tom was dressed in his crisp Naval Uniform with the bars of a Rear Admiral. Gibbs, on the other hand, was still dressed the same denim pants, dusty work shirt, heavy outer jacket and his well-worn flat cap that he had been wearing yesterday. He also hadn't shaved yet. His nearly two day's growth lent to his rough appearance and further camouflaged his real identity from anyone in the Yard who might remember and recognize him.

"It's been a while since we spoke in person," Tom said.

"Not since you met us in Venice a year and a half ago," he replied as he set his toolbox down.

"That long?" Tom asked. He nodded.

Morrow had met them in Venice where they had been working and informed them of the mission. Because they had been overseas, they weren't known among local law enforcement agents, the Bureau of Investigation or the Prohibition Unit. They used their three-week journey on the steamer to form their plan.

It had been hard working apart from his team after working so closely with one another for years. But he found that it had advantages as well. They knew each other so well that often a look was all it took to convey a message. That unspoken communication had saved them on several occasions while they were still overseas.

"I'll admit, I was surprised by your message that you wanted to meet in person," Morrow said as he sat down. "And unless you came to fix the leak in the bathroom, you must have something big."

"Yeah," he replied.

"You called me into the Yard at six in the morning, Gibbs," Morrow said when he didn't continue. "I really hope it wasn't to make me guess." Suddenly Morrow frowned. "Don't tell me you have bad news."

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

Morrow motioned to him. "You look like hell. I get that you're undercover, but you look like a hobo."

"I haven't been home to clean up," Gibbs replied. "And I haven't been to sleep yet," Gibbs replied. "Been up all night dealing with things."

"What things?" Morrow asked cautiously. "What has happened?"

He smiled wryly. "We're in."

Tom looked at him for a moment before he realized what Gibbs was saying. "We're in?" he asked.

He nodded. "McGee was hired last night. He's supposed to sign the contract to work for Napolitano this morning."

"Excellent," Tom replied. He was happy, but he didn't smile. He knew his agent was now in a far more dangerous position. "Our plans are finally playing off. How long do you think it'll be until McGee is in a position to get us some information on Napolitano's network?"

"Could be as early as Monday," he said as he removed his hat and rubbed his head.

"Monday?" Morrow asked. "How is a low-level accountant going to have information on our mole so fast?"

He looked at Morrow wryly. "McGee wasn't hired as a low-level accountant. He was hired to run the whole kit and caboodle."

Morrow stared at him as if he was trying to determine if Gibbs was pulling his leg.

"The whole thing?" Morrow asked finally. He nodded. "I'm sure you know that this seriously ups the stakes."

"Better than anyone," he replied.

Tom motioned for him to sit as well. When he had taken his seat, Tom asked, "Is McGee ready for this?"

"He's ready," he said firmly. He wouldn't have agreed to this mission if he hadn't thought that his team could handle it. He knew McGee was nervous, but he was confident that the young man wouldn't fail. And Tony was one of the best undercover. He'd help his partner as best as he could.

Morrow nodded. "I shouldn't have asked. You wouldn't have allowed it if you didn't think your team could handle this mission." He shook his head. "Forgive me; I'm a little slow at reading your unspoken cues. It's been a while." He smiled lightly. "I'm just concerned for McGee. He's in a precarious position and faces the largest risk. And he's never been undercover before."

"I know that," he replied. Normally, he wouldn't have considered allowing such a green agent take on a mission like this, but he had gotten to know McGee very well during their time overseas. And that same gut instinct that told him that the stuttering young man would make a fine investigator told him that Tim was more than capable of completing this assignment. "And McGee knows that as well. But his cover isn't that far from the truth."

"That helps," Tom replied. "And if anyone can crack Napolitano's codes, it'll be McGee." He nodded in agreement. "Our cryptologists can't make heads or tails out of the pages we found."

He stared at Tom. "You found pages of Napolitano's books?"

Tom looked up from his desk. "Oh," he said startled. "I suppose you didn't hear about that. You remember that poor soul found in Washington Circle last week?"

"It was Terry Spooner," he said curtly. "McGee's predecessor as Napolitano's accountant."

"Yes," Tom said, seemingly unsurprised that he knew the man's identity. "I suppose McGee told you that the body was Spooner's."

"McGee didn't need to," he replied. "The police might have had a hard time determining his identity, but it was an open secret within Napolitano's network that it was Spooner. He was killed after Naps found out Spooner was stealing from him."

"The Bureau of Investigation knew it was Spooner's body," Tom said. "They've had him under surveillance for months. After he turned up dead, the Bureau of Investigation searched his apartment. The place was clean as the day he moved in. Any and all personal belongings were gone. You'd had never known that someone had lived there only twenty-four hours prior."

"But you found Napolitano's ledgers?" he asked.

Tom shook his head. "No. We found a few pages hidden in a secret panel in his desk. They were months out of date and showed only a portion of Napolitano's network and of course they were encoded. Without more to go on, we have no hope of deciphering them, despite the attempt of every cryptographer on the eastern seaboard. But with access to all of Napolitano's books, McGee should be able to sort them out."

He nodded.

"I like McGee," Morrow said almost to himself. "And I know his father. I served with John McGee when he was a Commander aboard the _USS Nicholson_." He looked at Tom. He knew of Tom's love for the sea and shipboard life, but Tom had been forced to remain on land after an injury prevented him from serving aboard ship. "And I knew Timothy when he was just a boy."

He frowned. Admiral McGee was a sore point with him. He couldn't understand how a man could disown his own child over a matter of honor.

Tom mirrored his own frown. "I'd hate to see anything happen to Timothy before he can clear the air between them. They both deserve as much."

"He's taking every precaution," he said nodding. "And DiNozzo is his body guard. He'll take care of McGee," Gibbs added. Tom looked at him, waiting for an explanation. "It's Napolitano's policy to have a bodyguard for his money man. DiNozzo was assigned the position. He goes where McGee goes. They're even sharing an apartment. They'll move in today."

Tom's eyebrows arched upward. "That's strange," Tom replied. "I know you don't believe in coincidences."

"I don't," Gibbs replied. "But I don't think that this is a coincidence, Tom. Tony has been under cover for over a year now. He's made a reputation for himself within Napolitano's organization. He worked his way up to this position. McGee has been under cover for eight months. Napolitano has no way to connect the two of them. McGee was hired and DiNozzo was promoted. It just happens that they know each other."

"So, their covers are still intact?"

"Yes," Gibbs replied without hesitation.

"Good," Morrow replied. "Because after what happened to Terry Spooner..." Tom looked at him gravely. "That's a new low for Napolitano. As I said, I know Admiral McGee and I don't want to see something like what happened to Terry happen to his boy."

He frowned. "They're aware of the risks."

"I know that they are," Tom replied. "But doesn't mean I want them to get themselves killed on a case that isn't really ours. We're doing Hoover a personal favor on this one. Until their leak is found, they can't hope to take down Napolitano."

"They aren't taking any exceptional risks," Gibbs replied. "If they were, they know I'd slap them into next week."

Tom allowed a smile to creep onto his face. "I know you would."

"Are there any leads into Spooner's murder?" Gibbs asked.

"It isn't our case," Morrow replied.

Gibbs smiled wryly. "And you haven't heard a thing?" he asked.

Tom chuckled. "Nothing official, of course."

"Of course," Gibbs replied. "But as the Navy's liaison to the Bureau of Prohibition, you hear things."

"Scuttlebutt says that it was Napolitano's hatchet man Kyle Boone," Morrow replied. Gibbs felt his smile disappear. He had suspected that it was Boone's handy work, but he had hoped he was wrong. "He's a loose cannon and crazy son of a bitch to boot."

"I know," Gibbs replied. "I've been trying to catch him for years."

"This is personal to you," Morrow said.

"Damn straight it's personal!" Gibbs retorted. He took a breath to calm himself. "He killed a woman. My ex-wife's childhood friend."

"I know," Morrow replied. "I found out while looking into Boone. You traced the murder to Boone but because they never found the body, he walked." Gibbs nodded. "It led to your divorce to your fourth…"

"Third wife," Gibbs corrected softly. "Stephanie Flynn."

Joining ONI had brought him the stability that he had been looking for. And that had allowed him to develop a relationship with Stephanie to a point that they had gotten married. It wasn't the same as what he had with Shannon, but it had been good. At least it had been good until Boone had killed Stephanie's childhood friend, a Navy nurse, Desiree Rivera.

The brutal nature of her murder had led him to try to find the monster responsible. He had been obsessive and identifying Boone as the killer hadn't been enough. He spent every moment he wasn't working trying to find the evidence the police would need to arrest Boone.

It had led to the demise of their marriage and ultimately it had been for the best. She needed a better man than himself. He cared enough about her to see that he couldn't be the man she needed him to be.

He might still be trying to take down Boone if their team hadn't been sent overseas. And looking at Morrow, he was pretty sure that Tom had arranged the assignment to get him away from Boone.

"Spooner's death is not our concern," Morrow said strongly. "Don't concern yourself with bringing Boone to justice."

"He's a murderer, Tom," he retorted.

"And you're undercover to take down the head of a criminal empire," Tom replied sternly. "I get that you want to take Boone off the streets and I agree that we'd all be better for it if you did. But you can't endanger your mission just to take one criminal down. Remember, we take down Napolitano and we put a lot of criminals out of work. You need to focus on protecting your people."

He frowned but nodded. Then he said forcefully, "It still won't stop me from taking Boone down if I have the opportunity."

Tom nodded. "I wouldn't expect any less from you Gibbs. Just be careful." He nodded. "Since he was connected to this case, I've done my own digging into Kyle Boone. He's been connected to several other murders – men and women – but nothing has stuck. It seems Napolitano is protecting Boone from the law. But I think that it is only a matter of time before Boone is behind bars. Either we'll get Napolitano or Napolitano will stop protecting Boone and we'll get him that way."

"You think Napolitano is protecting Boone out of fear?" he asked.

Tom snorted involuntarily. "Yes. I do. Do you really think Napolitano wants to be on the receiving end of Boone's wrath? You saw what he did to Spooner and that was just for fun. If Boone turned on Napolitano, I can guarantee that Napolitano's fate would be ten times worse." He nodded in agreement. "We'll get him," Tom continued. "Just tell your people to watch themselves. I don't want to find their bodies on the National Mall courtesy of James Napolitano."

"We'll continue to do our job," Gibbs said as he picked up his tools. "And we'll pull the plug if things get hairy." He walked towards the door.

"Gibbs," called Tom. He stopped and turned around. Tom smiled and said, "Might as well give you a good reason to be here. Would you mind looking at a leaky sink in the men's room?"

Gibbs smiled wryly as he left the office, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary and with no intention of looking at yet another men's room sink.


	6. Chapter 5 - Deal with the Devil

**Chapter 5 – Deal with the Devil**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

Tim groaned as he heard someone knocking on his door. Picking up his head from his pillow, he glanced at his alarm clock. Seven o'clock. Who on earth would be knocking on his door at seven o'clock on a Saturday?

Maybe if he ignored them, they would go away.

But the knocking only grew louder and more insistent.

Just as he was debating getting up to tell off the early morning intruder, he heard footsteps in his apartment. He tensed for a moment before he remembered Tony had spent the night. When he heard his partner's voice talking to whoever was at the door, he realized that he really had accepted a job from James Napolitano last night and it hadn't been a vivid dream.

It might be a nightmare. But it was real.

"Hey," a voice said from his door. He tilted his head and saw Tony in his doorway. His partner's voice was rough and he looked annoyed. "Napolitano's men are here with your contract. Get up."

"Right," Tim replied as he rolled over onto his back. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He looked at the door and saw Tony staring at him. Tony's hair was sticking up at odd angles, he had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were rumpled. "What?"

"You look like how I feel," Tony replied.

"Funny," Tim replied. "I was going to say the same thing."

"You try sleeping on the floor next time," Tony retorted.

"Trust me this bed isn't much better," he muttered. "Let them in and tell them I'll be right there."

He slowly got up and stumbled into the bathroom where he splashed some cold water onto his face, which helped to wake him a little. By the time he left the bathroom, he felt a little more coherent. After pulling on a pair of pants and a clean shirt, he entered his living area, passing the rough nest of blankets that he had hastily scrounged up to soften the floor for Tony since he couldn't return to his own bed last night. He found DiNozzo in the kitchen watching the two men who were seated at his table.

One was handsome and well built. He was wearing an expensive suit and seemed very put out. The other was clearly the muscle of the group. He almost seemed to be wider than he was tall and the chair was straining under his weight. His face was slightly pocked and scarred and he seemed indifferent to his surroundings.

"Mr. Gemcity," the handsome one said. "I am Diego Clare, Mr. Napolitano's lawyer. I have your contract for your signature."

He nodded. "Forgive me for not offering you a cup of coffee," he said. "But as you can guess, you roused us from our sleep."

Mr. Clare looked at the pile of blankets and nodded. "I understand and it is just as well. I would prefer to get this process over with so I can seek my own bed."

He nodded. "You were up all night working on this?" Tim asked as he approached the table.

"Yes," Clare replied as he opened his brief case and pulled out a stack of papers. "I met with Mr. Napolitano last night after your returned from your… celebration."

"So why do we look like hell and you look fresh as a daisy?" Tony asked.

"Coffee," Clare replied. "If you don't mind, I would like to go to bed in the next few hours and I can't do that until you sign this contract," he said curtly. "And I'm sure you would like to move out of this…place," Clare said diplomatically as he looked around with disdain. "And into your new apartment."

"Yeah well, you're going to wait for me to read the contract first," Tim muttered as he collected his glasses from the counter. He still didn't like wearing the false specs but he had gotten used to making sure he had them on at the appropriate times.

Sitting down, he started to read the contract but it was slow going. He wasn't fully awake and the technical jargon of the contract was like a foreign language. He blinked hard and pinched the bridge of his nose before he started over.

Gibbs had only left his apartment a couple hours ago. They had discussed their current case including their plan of action until they were comfortable. Then they had scoured his apartment for anything that might indicate he was a government agent. It had sounded like Mr. Napolitano had movers that would pack his things for him and he didn't want one of them to stumble onto something that would blow his cover on the first day. After leaving his place, Gibbs had gone to Tony's apartment to make sure that he didn't have anything incriminating.

When he finished reading through the contract, he read through it a second time to make sure he understood it. The contract had everything that he and Mr. Napolitano had discussed and nothing they hadn't. It was very neat.

"All right," Tim said. He looked up and saw that Mr. Clare was holding a pen. Taking it, Tim signed it with a flourish.

Mr. Thom E. Gemcity was now employed by James Napolitano.

His stomach did a flip as he realized the implications of signing the contract. Even if Thom E. Gemcity was an alias, he had just signed a contract to work for a mob boss.

"Very good, Mr. Gemcity. I will deliver this to Mr. Napolitano. Expect the movers to be here within the hour," he said but Tim cut him off.

"No," he said firmly, startling Mr. Clare. "Tell them they can arrive at ten and no earlier. I'd like to clean up and get a little breakfast before my stuff is manhandled by a bunch of movers," Tim said firmly.

"Very well," Mr. Clare replied as he placed the signed contract into his briefcase. He stood, followed by the large silent man. "I will relay your message." He shook Tim's hand. "You can expect the movers at your apartment, Mr. DiNozzo, simultaneously. You may wish to have someone present. Some of these movers have sticky fingers."

"Wonderful," Tony muttered as Mr. Clare left the apartment, followed by his goon.

When they had gone, Tim removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What a lovely way to wake up after two hours sleep."

"By a mob boss' lawyer and his ogre?" Tony asked.

Tim chuckled at the ogre comment. "Yes, but I meant the contract. Nothing like a little technical reading on two hours sleep and without coffee."

"You understood all that lawyer speak?" Tony asked.

Hearing the concern in his voice, Tim looked at his partner. He couldn't say that he and Tony had much in common outside their work. He wasn't sure he could even classify them as friends. Tony teased him and played practical jokes on him all the time which drove him crazy. And Tony was constantly complaining about how much of a square he was. But work was their common bond and induced loyalty to one another. "Yeah," he replied. "Napolitano's being straight with me. Everything we talked about was in the contract and nothing we didn't was there either."

"Good," Tony replied as he stretched out his back. "You know, I'm impressed with you. You just went toe-to-toe with Jimmy Napolitano's lawyer and somehow you managed to negotiate one hell of a salary from one of the most frugal mobsters. You've been holding out on us…"

Suddenly feeling sick, Tim covered his mouth and rushed to the bathroom. He barely made it inside before he fell to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He heard Tony shouting after him, asking if he was ok but he couldn't answer as he threw up what little was in his stomach.

Finally, when the retching passed, he leaned his head on his arm and rested on the toilet as he caught his breath.

"Tim, you ok?" Tony asked cautiously. He nodded but didn't look up. He was trying to decide if he was going to puke again. "Tim." Tony rested his hand on his back while he fought down the bile.

"I'm ok," he said finally. Sitting up, he pushed himself back and sat against the wall, resting his arms on his knees.

"Bad hooch?" Tony asked as he leaned down to look at him.

"You're telling me, you run bad liquor?" Tim asked incredulously. "To the _Tin Angel?"_

"It's been known to happen on occasion," Tony said seriously. "Even at the _Tin Angel."_

Tim shook his head. "It wasn't the liquor," he replied. "It all just hit me, you know?"

"You mean that you signed a contact with a notorious mobster who ruthlessly dispatches his enemies and disposed of your predecessor in one of the most brutal murders this city has ever seen?" Tony asked.

He closed his eyes as he felt his stomach flip at the thought.

"You're making me feel sick again," Tim said drolly.

Tony snorted and sat down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I know how you feel, McGee," Tony said. "You're worried. You want to do a good job. We've invested a lot of time into this case and we don't have much to show for it. You getting this job might finally be what's needed to take Napolitano down. But you're worried that you're going to get made, which not only means that the mission fails but that you'll probably end up dead too."

"If you're trying to cheer me up, you're doing a lousy job," he said as he cast a glance at Tony.

"Hear me out," Tony said. He nodded and motioned for Tony to continue. "You're not feeling anything different than what Gibbs and I feel when we go under cover."

"Do you puke too?" Tim asked.

Tony didn't answer right away. His partner seemed to be thinking about how to answer the question, which told him it wasn't a simple yes or no.

"I've had more experience at this kind of work," Tony replied, avoiding answering the question. "This is your first real time undercover," Tony said. "You spent most of your time behind the lines. And you know, we couldn't have done our jobs without you forging papers, analyzing security or figuring out the technology we found. That also means that you don't know how to channel those nerves into something you can use." He nodded. "I'm nervous every time I go under cover too."

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" he asked skeptically.

"And if I am?" Tony asked. In spite of himself, he chuckled. Even if Tony was lying, he was feeling better. "I'm not just saying it, McGee. I mean it, I've been a big ball of nerves these last twelve months and I've had far too many close calls. But I choose not to focus on the fear. I focus on the job at hand. That's how I work through the nerves."

"Thanks Tony," he said. "I appreciate you helping me."

"What are partners for?" Tony asked roguishly. "But I don't think you need my help, Tim. You've already proved that you can hold your own. You stood up to that suit twice in ten minutes. _And_ you managed to get a three-hundred dollar a week salary from Jimmy Napolitano. That had to have been some negotiation."

This time he laughed. "I demanded five hundred to start," he replied. Tony looked impressed. "And I basically told him off for low-balling me." He snorted. "I can't believe I said all that to Jimmy Napolitano."

Tony laughed with him. When they fell silent, Tony patted him on the knee.

"And that tells me that you'll be just fine, Tim," Tony said. "You can crunch the numbers. The rest will come."

"Thanks Tony," Tim replied genuinely. "I appreciate the faith you have in me."

Tony's smile faded, and he grew serious again. "You get the feeling you just signed a deal with the devil, McGee?" Tony asked.

"I guess it depends," he replied. Tony looked puzzled, so he added, "It depends on whether we can take Napolitano down or not."

"Good point," Tony conceded.

"And it wasn't just me signing a deal with the devil," he said. "With my signature, you're in this as deep as I am. We both know that if I'm discovered, you'll be killed even if they never make you."

"Comes with the territory," Tony replied jovially. Suddenly he sobered. "But I wouldn't have it any other way. I go with my partner. That includes the triumphs and the failures. We're a team and together, we can do just about anything." He smiled at Tony. He was incredibly touched but before he could say anything more, Tony said, "So enough with this mushy stuff. Can we get up off your bathroom floor now?"

"Yeah," Tim replied.

They stood up and returned to the living area.

Suddenly Tony's stomach growled. He looked at his partner with amusement. "What? I'm hungry. You mentioned breakfast before?"

"Yeah," Tim replied. "I can get you a better breakfast than you usually can afford."

Tony pulled a face at him then smirked. "You're not going to puke, again are you?" Tony asked.

"I don't think so," Tim replied. "Although since you're my new shadow, you'll be the first to know."

"You're enjoying this," Tony said sourly as he walked over to the desk where his coat was draped. Tony looked down at himself, but his clothes were hopelessly rumpled. Only a good hot iron would remove those wrinkles. With a sigh, Tony pulled on his coat knowing that there wasn't anything he could do to make himself more presentable at the moment.

"Just a little," he replied as he entered his bedroom and searched for a coat, purposely selecting something that wasn't tidy either so that Tony wasn't the only one who looked unkempt. "Following me around has got to be your worst nightmare."

"No," Tony called. "Living with you is."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Momcat, The character Blue is referenced from the episode _Pop Life_ from season 2. A sailor, Yeoman Manda King is found murdered in bed with a bartender (Willie Taylor) from the club _Sugar Street_. She and a bouncer, Blue McGinty, were attempting to frame Ian Hitch, the owner of the club she worked at as a dancer and singer. She wanted out of the very restrictive (and possibly abusive) contract so that she could become a pop star. So when it was mentioned in my story that Blue was sweet on one of the singers at the Tin Angel, I was referring to Samantha King even though I never named her.

One of the things I have noticed while writing this story is that NCIS tends to use a lot of the same names over and over again. There are multiple uses of names like Blue, Tom, Fred and Jimmy to name a few! The name didn't make it into the story but I know they've used the surname Purcell on more than one occasion as well. I understand that they have to put every name used in the show through the legal wringer just to make sure it's all right, so that might account for some of the repeats.


	7. Chapter 6 - Lifestyle Changes

**Chapter 6 – Lifestyle Changes**

 _Tony DiNozzo_

* * *

Tony thanked the cab driver as he passed him the fare and small tip through the window before turning around to look at their new home. For a moment, he was taken aback when he saw the size of the building and at the sight of a doorman who was smartly dressed in a crisp red uniform. He hadn't lived in a building quite as fine as this since he had been a child.

Jolting as the taxi pulled away, he hurried to follow Tim.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" the doorman asked.

"Yes," Tim replied. "We've just taken an apartment in this building. We're moving in today," Tim said motioning towards him.

"You're the new tenants in four-oh-three?" doorman asked.

"We're not sure of the number," Tony replied. "But are you expecting any other new tenants?" The doorman shook his head. "Then yes, we're the new tenants in four-oh-three."

The man straightened up and smoothed his uniform nervously before he quickly hid it. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Dwayne Wilson," Dwayne said looking between him and McGee.

Instantly on guard, he eyed the young man. He wasn't very tall, and the uniform hid his figure, but he looked to be strong and fit. In fact, he looked a lot like some of the boys that worked with him running liquor. He made a note to question the young man to determine if he wasn't on more than one payroll.

"I'm on duty on weekends and some nights," Dwayne continued. "If you need anything, a taxi, dinner reservations, symphony tickets, just let me know. I've got friends all over town who can get you what you need."

"Thanks," Tim said with a nod. "I'm Timothy McGee and this is my roommate, Anthony DiNozzo."

"Welcome to the Seahawk," Dwayne said as he opened the door for them.

They nodded and entered the building. He and Tim stopped and looked at the lobby before sharing a look.

The lobby was spacious and luxuriously appointed. Two grand staircases on either side of the doors lead to a balcony that looked over the main lobby through arched openings. The vaulted ceilings were supported by graceful columns and lit with modern chandelier lights. The floor was marble and inlaid with geometric patterns. To the left, there was a seating area with plush chairs and coffee tables. To the right, there was an elevator that was manned by another employee in a red uniform like the doorman. And ahead, there was a large reception desk with a bank of mailboxes which was staffed by an older woman.

He wasn't up on his architecture styles, but he seemed to recall his young partner prattling on about a style called Arts Décoratifs that was gaining popularity when they had been in southern France for a time. He had noticed a number of recently constructed buildings that shared the same style they had seen overseas.

Whatever it was called, if their apartment was anything like this, he was going to be very happy.

"What's with using your real name?" he asked his partner as they moved off to the side to allow a young family to leave the building. "I thought you were using your alias."

"I am," Tim replied as he took his glasses off and cleaned them with a handkerchief. "But only with Jimmy's people."

"You do realize that Dwayne out there was one of Jimmy's people, don't you?" he asked.

Tim glanced at the door. "He was? How can you tell?"

"He got real nervous when he found out we were the new tenants," Tony replied. "Who do you know that can make people that nervous?"

"You think he's extra security?" Tim asked as he replaced his glasses.

"Guys that look like bouncers don't often work as doormen, even for high-end apartment buildings," he said. "And would you be surprised if Napolitano wanted extra security in the building where his money man lived?"

"I'd be disappointed if he hadn't," Tim replied. He gave his partner a look that said, 'I told you so.' "You don't need to gloat," Tim muttered as he walked towards the desk.

"Mr. McGee?" a woman asked as they approached the desk.

"Yes, Ma'am," Tim replied as he looked her over. She was an older woman and her silver streaked hair was pulled up into a tight bun.

"My name is Mrs. Audrey Vetter," she said. "I have your apartment keys. You requested two sets?"

"Yes Ma'am," Tim said as he glanced at him. "The other set is for my roommate."

She nodded and said, "Very well." She handed each of them a set of keys. "Your apartment is on the fourth floor. Apartment four-zero-three. If you'll follow me."

They followed her into an elevator and waited while the bellman, a reedy man with a name plate that read 'Pringle,' worked the controls to take them to the fourth floor. The elevator opened into a smaller lobby that held only a pair of overstuffed chairs on either side of a single staircase. The grand sweeping staircases from the main lobby had given way to a single set of more utilitarian stairs.

Without a word, Mrs. Vetter walked through the lobby and down the hall.

"There's an additional set of stairs at the end of the hall, should you want to walk instead of waiting for the elevator. The wait times can be long in the morning and evenings when people are coming and going," she said. "And since the door is near your apartment, you may find it more convenient to walk." She paused and motioned to the stairwell door as they passed it. "I should warn you that you'll need your key to get through the door from the stairwell. We keep them locked to prevent just anyone from wandering into the building and onto our tenant's floor."

"Good to know," Tony replied as they followed her down the hallway. Their new apartment was at the end of the hallway. Somehow, he doubted that it was a coincidence that their apartment had easy access to the stairs.

Mrs. Vetter produced a master key ring and opened the door for them.

Tim walked inside and stopped in his tracks. He followed his partner and stopped next to him.

The apartment was large, well-furnished and nicer than anything he had ever lived in while in Washington. On first glance, he was pretty sure that this place might actually be nicer than anything he had lived in as a kid.

Working for a mobster definitely had its perks.

As with the lobby, it was decorated in art deco style. The floor was covered with a plush carpet and thick curtains hung at the windows, although they were currently open to let in light. A pair of sofas sat opposite of each other with a small coffee table between them. Large windows over looked the busy street and a small fireplace stood between two sets of French doors that led to the dining room.

"This is the living area," she said. Then without waiting for comments, she turned to her right and said, "The bathroom is through here." They followed her and looked inside the large bathroom that had a monstrous claw-footed bathtub and an opulent sink that seemed to be made from marble.

"One of the bedrooms is through here," she said once again not waiting for them to comment. He and Tim followed her and looked down the short hallway to the bedroom that was next to the bathroom. The room was furnished with rich wood furniture and contained a large bed, matching bedside tables, a chest of drawers and a large closet.

"Then you have the kitchen and dining area," she said as she walked through one set of French doors. The dining area had a large table that could seat at least eight people and held a large china closet, which was filled with sparkling dishes. The kitchen with a generous pantry was located to the right of the dining area.

They followed her through the dining area and the second set of French doors, back into the living room. She walked briskly back to the front of the apartment where she pointed to another door. "And that is the second bedroom and the attached powder room. Should you find anything out of order, you can call the front desk, day or night, and we'll see about getting things fixed. We keep someone on staff in the lobby at all times."

"Thank you," Tim said. She nodded politely and left the apartment.

"Brisk woman, isn't she?" Tony asked as the door clicked shut.

"A bit," Tim replied as he looked around at the apartment. "This is amazing."

"No kidding," he replied as he took a moment to follow Tim's gaze. He removed his overcoat and draped it over the sofa. Tim hastily followed suit. "This place is huge."

Now that they weren't being rushed, they took their time and looked around.

The larger bedroom had two nice-sized windows that overlooked the courtyard, as did the kitchen. The windows in the living and dining area looked out over the front street and afforded them a good view of most of the block. The kitchen also had a second window that opened out onto a fire escape that led into the alley. He'd have to investigate to make sure that the fire escape wasn't accessible from the ground and ensure that the window locked securely before he'd be happy. Being on the fourth floor, the fire escape was the only entrance that was accessible from the outside.

He'd have to investigate the other doors to the outside, but he had a feeling that Jimmy had picked _The Seahawk_ because it was a secure building even without the extra layers of security like the doorman. It hadn't been obvious that Wilson was armed but he suspected the young man was packing.

He'd have to keep an eye on the doormen to see if Wilson was an abnormality and if he wasn't, he'd have to verify that they were Napolitano's employees but that would be a task for another time.

Even if the doorman wasn't on the payroll, between the doorman, the person staffing the front desk and the elevator jockey, there were enough eyes on the building who knew the tenants that it would make it hard for someone to break in without being noticed. He'd have to complete a full security assessment, but he liked what he saw so far.

Tim walked over to the second bedroom and looked inside. He quickly followed his partner. It was slightly smaller and decorated differently than the first but otherwise it was furnished similarly to the other bedroom. He could just see a small powder room through an open door.

They returned to the living room and looked around.

"Well, all we can do now is wait for our belongings," Tim said. "And pick bedrooms," Tim added, eying the bedroom with the attached powder room.

"No. You get that one," he said pointing to the larger bedroom next to the bathroom.

"Why?" Tim asked, confused. "That one has the bathroom attached," Tim said pointing to the front bedroom.

Tony let out a deep breath in exasperation. Did Tim think that this was about an attached powder room? Of course, that was nice, but the room only held a toilet and a sink. It wasn't anything to make a fuss over. "That's not the reason why I want that room."

"Then why?" Tim asked crossing his arms. Obviously, his partner didn't believe him.

He suddenly felt like he was at summer camp debating who got the top bunk.

"Because, McGenius, if someone tries to break into the apartment, that'll put me closer to the door," he replied slightly exasperated.

Taken aback by the logical explanation, Tim said, "Oh." Tim deflated. Suddenly Tim stood up straight and his expression grew firm. "You know, I can handle myself just fine, right?"

"Yeah," he replied smacking Tim on the back roughly. Tim coughed lightly. He knew perfectly well that Tim could take care of himself. They both had been trained by Gibbs after all. He guided Tim to the sitting area and forced his partner to sit down. He took his own seat opposite his partner. "But if Napolitano asks, I want to make sure he knows that I'm taking my job seriously. I don't want to get canned."

"I suppose," Tim replied skeptically.

"McGee, it isn't just my job to protect you for Napolitano," he said. "You heard Gibbs. He'll have my hide if I let anything happen to you and I'm more afraid of him than Naps!" Tim chuckled slightly. "But even without the threat of bodily harm, you're my partner and I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know," Tim said.

"So, believe me when I tell you I'm being serious here," he continued. "Yes, I know you can handle yourself but it's my job to make sure you never have to. Some precautions up front can pay off later."

"I appreciate that Tony," Tim said honestly. "Really I do."

"Good," he said. "You didn't have to worry too much about your safety while you were working for Taylor, but everything has changed now, Tim. You need to get into the habit of being more alert and cautious." Tim nodded seriously. "And less trusting." Tim frowned but didn't respond. "I haven't finished a threat assessment yet, but the apartment is looking pretty secure. We'll have to work out the best way to get you to and from Napolitano's offices. I'm not keen on the idea of taking a cab every day. I'll look into getting us a car."

"So how is this supposed to work anyway? You go wherever I go? Cause that puts you on duty twenty-four hours a day," Tim said, looking at him with interest. Aside from making sure that Tim didn't get pinched or killed, they hadn't discussed his duties as personal bodyguard.

"Mostly," Tony replied with a shrug. Being deep under cover like he was, he was always on duty anyway. And now that he was Tim's bodyguard, he couldn't afford to let his guard down for an instant. "When you're at work with Napolitano, I can leave and run errands if I need. If you need to go out, you get one of Napolitano's personal guards if I'm not around."

"If they're Napolitano's personal body guards, they ought to be good," Tim said but he didn't sound certain.

"They're good all right," Tony replied gravely. "But I won't leave you until I find someone I trust. And I don't want you to go anywhere with anyone I haven't checked into." Tim nodded solemnly. "It'll take a few weeks for me to be sure, but I'll find a couple of guys."

"What happens once you find a few people?" Tim asked. "Surely you can't be expected to be on duty all of the time."

"Just most of the time," he replied. "I get one night off a week."

"A whole night? Whatever are you going to do with yourself?" Tim said sarcastically.

"Since you're such a teetotaler, I'll probably go out for a drink," he said wryly. Tim frowned at him. "That is as soon as I can find a guy I trust to fill in for me, which could be a while if at all."

"And just what do you get paid for being on duty around the clock?" Tim asked.

"A hundred bucks a week," Tony replied with a shrug. "Plus this apartment. I know it's not as good as what you're getting but it's still a step up from what I was getting paid before."

"Still, it's a rough gig," Tim said.

"It's not that bad, unless someone tries to shoot you," he replied nonchalantly. Suddenly he grew serious. "Tim, I need you to promise me that if that happens, you'll take cover."

"And let you face them by yourself?" Tim asked scandalized. "I won't do that, Tony. I couldn't."

"But you'll have to," he said firmly. "Tim. I appreciate your loyalty."

"Gibbs has drummed it into us," Tim said cutting him off. Suddenly he rubbed the back of his head. "Sometimes literally."

He smiled even as he rubbed the back of his own head. He grew serious. "Tim," he said as he stood up and shifted so he was sitting next to Tim. His change in tone wiped the smile from his partner's face. "Listen. If something happens, you need to take cover. We can't risk you getting pinched by the BOIs or worse."

"What's worse than getting pinched?" Tim asked in confusion.

"Naps told you about all the times that someone came after Spooner?" he asked. Tim nodded. "None of those were attempts by the law. They were all attempts by one of Napolitano's competitors." Tim blinked owlishly and then looked away, too embarrassed to meet his eye. "You get picked up by one of La Grenouille's men and Spooner's fate is going to look good!"

"I understand what you're saying Tony," Tim said as he looked at him. "But you're asking me to hide when my partner is in trouble. Could you do that? Could you do that if Gibbs was in trouble?"

He frowned. He knew that Tim was going to play dirty and ask him that. If Gibbs told him he had to take cover when the lead started to fly, he'd tell Gibbs he was off his rocker too. He wouldn't be able to abandon Gibbs if he was in trouble either. Even if Gibbs had ordered him to.

Tim looked at him pointedly, saying 'I told you so' with a look.

"This is more important than me now," he said firmly. He did his best to channel Gibbs and say what their boss would say. "You're the one that's in Napolitano's network. You're the one that can take him down, not me."

"Tony," Tim objected.

"No," he said cutting Tim off. "We've worked too hard to get to this point and if it means that I have to give my life to protect you and our mission, then that's what I'll do."

"What if I don't want you to do that Tony?" Tim asked harshly.

"I don't want to do it either!" Tony said suddenly which caused Tim to relax a little. "And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that we both come out on the other side of this thing. But we've sacrificed so much for this case. I don't want to throw it all away. Not now. Not when we're finally getting somewhere."

"You know that I can't make that promise, Tony," Tim said. "It goes against everything I am. I can't run when my friend is in trouble." Tim took a deep breath. "But, I'll try. And I hope that I don't have to worry about that."

He nodded, touched by the sentiment. He knew how hard it was for Tim to say that he'd try. Tim didn't have much field experience, but Tim had proved he had courage and he had stood tall in the face of gunfire.

"I know it isn't easy for you to say that," he said. Tim nodded. "Believe me, it isn't easy to ask it either. And I hope you're right and we never have to worry about it. That's why we need to take every precaution we can."

"Ok," Tim said. "I'll follow your lead, Tony."

"Good," he said. "I'm sure there will be more but for now, don't trust anyone. We don't know who is or isn't on Napolitano's payroll."

"Or someone else's payroll?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," he agreed. "There are two people you can trust: me and Gibbs. That's where the list ends." Tim nodded seriously. "But until we can figure out a reliable way to communicate with Gibbs, we have to consider that we're on our own."

"Gibbs can't be happy about that," Tim replied.

"Would you?" he asked, and Tim shook his head. "Keep to the rules. Don't go anywhere unarmed like you did last night with your meeting with Napolitano."

Tim chuckled. "I wasn't unarmed Tony. Sal missed my knife," Tim replied.

"Are we talking that dinky pocket knife your father gave you when you were in the boy scouts or that French stiletto?" he asked.

"Well the knife is Spanish," Tim said. "Toledo steel but I bought it in France. Damascus steel supposedly made the best knives, but it was more of a process than anything. Smiths in Spain actually used the better alloy…"

"Whatever," he said cutting his partner off. He didn't want a history lesson. "Which knife did you have?"

"The stiletto," Tim replied as he drew the knife from somewhere at his waist. Tim flicked the knife open revealing a thin blade that was just over four inches long. "I didn't want to risk losing the pocket knife."

He looked at his partner sympathetically. He thought being estranged from his father was bad enough until Tim's father had disowned him. Even though Tim and his father hadn't really seen eye-to-eye, being disowned because of this case had been really hard on his young partner. It would have been better if Tim had just stopped talking to his father like he had.

"Good," he said. "You don't go anywhere without that knife. Or your pistol."

"I won't," Tim said seriously as he folded the blade back into the handle and replaced it at his waist. "You know, I doubt Jimmy would have been happy to know that I got into a meeting with him with a switchblade."

"No and I doubt that Sal would be happy either," Tony replied.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Standing, he made his way to the door and looked through the peep hole. An army of coverall clad men stood in the hallway with boxes. Opening the door, he let the movers in and pointed out their respective bedrooms. The men nodded and started to bring in the boxes, depositing them in their rooms.

"I remember, now, why I hate moving," he muttered when he realized that they were going to have a long day of unpacking in front of them.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** In case anyone is wondering, I was directly inspired by the Hyperion Hotel from the tv show _Angel_ for the design and layout of the boys' new apartment building, The Seahawk. As for their apartment, picture a two bedroom version of Tony's apartment from the show. Most of the apartment is identical to Tony's, I just added a large bathroom and second bedroom just inside the door.

Also, for anyone celebrating today, have a safe and Happy 4th of July!


	8. Chapter 7 - Gainful Employment

**Chapter 7 – Gainful Employment**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

"Right on time," Jimmy said as he and Tony entered the office. "But then again, I wouldn't expect anything less of you."

"Of course, Mr. Napolitano," he replied as he looked around. Jimmy maintained an office in a non-descript building just outside of the central office district. He'd bet that most people never suspected that Napolitano, who rented the office under a front company, worked from their neighborhood. It was a nice, respectable neighborhood filled with a mix of offices, homes, small businesses and restaurants.

Tony nodded and left the foyer while Tim looked around. While nicely decorated, it wasn't overly elaborate. In fact, for someone such as Jimmy Napolitano, it would be considered modest. The entry way held a desk where a young woman sat answering the phone. A few potted plants were scattered about the room and a couple of chairs were pushed against the wall by the door.

"This is Miss Holly Stegman," he said introducing Tim to the young woman. She nodded. "Holly this is Thom Gemcity. He's our new accountant. If he needs anything, see that he gets it."

"Yes, Mr. Napolitano," she replied. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Gemcity."

He nodded and followed Jimmy down the hall to a small room where several men were scattered around sofas and plush chairs, including Tony. Some were talking softly among themselves while Tony was scanning the morning paper. "These are my personal escorts. You need to go somewhere, they'll go with you." Tim nodded as the men looked up at him. But he didn't get a chance to say anything before Jimmy continued to another office.

"A couple of my business managers work from this office. You'll meet them in time. You met my lawyer, Mr. Clare," he said as they stopped at the office which held the man he had met the previous Saturday."

"A pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Gemcity," Mr. Clare said as he stood. "You look well rested this time."

"Well a proper night's sleep helps," he replied even as he felt subconscious of himself.

Mr. Clare was once again dressed in a fine suit as was Mr. Napolitano. His suit, while immaculately clean and pressed, felt cheap in comparison even though he was wearing his best suit. He made a mental note to get some new suits made as soon as possible. He had enough money saved that should serve as a down payment until he received his first pay.

"Of course," Mr. Clare replied. "I'm sure we will talk more later."

He nodded as they continued on.

"As I said, you'll meet the others in time," Jimmy said as they made their way to another office. The curtains were all closed and the room was only lit by a pair of desk lamps. A small man was bent over a large ledger and several more were scattered around the desk. The room didn't have much of a décor. The walls were lined with shelves that were filled with ledgers and books. It looked more like a storage room than an office. "But you'll be working closely with Mr. Matteson. He heads up the accounts for my importing businesses, factories and the like."

He looked at Jimmy and mentally translated what he was saying. Matteson ran the legal books.

"Dale," Jimmy said as he knocked on the doorframe. Dale jolted and looked up at them like a landed fish. He knew he didn't have an olive complexion but he looked downright tan compared to Dale. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Thom Gemcity," Jimmy said as Dale hastily stood. "He's my new personal accountant."

"A pleasure," Dale said stammering badly.

"Same here," he replied as he shook Dale's hand.

Dale was short, slightly round and looked like he was ready to pass out. Or hyperventilate. Or both. He was looking at Jimmy almost in terror but from Jimmy's indifference, he had a feeling that this wasn't unusual. Then again, Dale was meeting the man who was replacing someone who had been brutally murdered. If he wasn't that person, he might be afraid of someone willing to take on that job too.

"I'm sure you two will get to know each other pretty well," Jimmy said. "Dale knows his numbers. If you have any questions regarding his side of the business, he'll be able to help you out." Dale nodded fervently. "Let's show you your office," Jimmy said. Dale waved faintly before he sank back into his chair, seemingly in relief that Jimmy had left.

"Is he all right?" he asked as they returned to the hall.

Jimmy chuckled and looked back at him. "Dale?"

"Yeah," he said as he jerked his thumb back to the office they had just left. "He looks as white as a ghost."

"Pale Dale didn't come by his nickname for nothing," Jimmy said with a chuckle. "He always looks like that." He frowned. That wasn't exactly reassuring. "Which is why he didn't get your job. I needed someone with the intestinal fortitude to handle this difficult job. You proved you had that at our interview."

Dropping it for now, he followed Jimmy to the end of the office building. An ornate door was at the end of the hall and a plain, almost utilitarian door was to the left.

"This is your office," Jimmy said as he opened the door and motioned for him to enter.

Tim stepped inside and looked around. There was a large wooden desk that occupied most of the room and a couple of chairs. One wall consisted of built in book shelves, which were filled with what looked to be law books and some smaller ledgers. A couple of filing cabinets were shoved into a corner. A coat tree was located by the door and a second, more decorative door was located to the right. Despite the fact that there were no windows, the room was well lit.

He removed his hat and idly wondered how many people had walked past the non-descript door and had never suspected the keys to Jimmy's criminal empire were within? If he hadn't known better, he would have expected this windowless office was a broom closet, which he supposed was the point.

"I suppose you're wondering why you don't get a window," Jimmy said.

"Actually, I was wondering why the place is so bare. I've seen tramp steamers with more inviting decors." Jimmy chuckled at that. "I presumed I didn't get a window because you didn't want someone spying on me from the outside," he said as he hung his hat on the coat tree before he took off his overcoat and added it to the coat rack.

"That's a good presumption, my boy," he said. "You'll find records of all the legit businesses in there but you don't need to worry about those. Dale keeps those up to date," he said jabbing his thumb towards the filing cabinets and then towards several shelves. "The others are here."

Tim watched as Jimmy walked over to the book shelves and pulled a book back. Obviously, the book was attached to a lever because suddenly a section of the bookshelves slid forward enough that Jimmy could push it to the side. He looked around Jimmy but only saw a bare section of wall. Jimmy stuck his hand into a knothole and suddenly a door opened to reveal a large sturdy safe.

"Clever," he remarked.

"This is the combination," Jimmy said handing him a slip of paper. "Once you memorize it, burn it."

"Of course," Tim replied as he pocketed the slip of paper.

When Jimmy opened the safe, he saw several large and heavy leather-bound ledgers and numerous documents in neatly labeled folders that he presumed were deeds or sensitive business contracts. Jimmy pulled two ledgers out of the safe and deposited them on the desk. He then closed the secret panel and pushed the book case back in place.

"If, God forbid, the Feds should show up, this is what you do. Pull the book straight up. That disconnects the lever that opens the case. It can't be reconnected without some wire and some finagling so don't disconnect it unless you have to. But that'll keep the Feds out of places they shouldn't be," Jimmy said. "It's worked every time they've stopped by for a visit."

Tim nodded, impressed. He followed Jimmy as he took a seat behind the large desk. Jimmy opened a book and presented it to Tim. Tim scanned them with an expert eye. He found one problem.

"These are in code," he said. It wasn't a surprise but the words were out of his mouth before he thought it better to not say them aloud.

"So, you noticed," Jimmy replied wryly.

Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You expect me to run your books without knowing what things are?"

"For now," Jimmy replied standing up. "Trust is earned, Timothy. Besides, if you are as smart as I think you are, it won't take you long to figure it out. I'll be through there should you need me."

"Right," Tim said as he took his seat behind the desk. Napolitano entered his office through the side door. As Jimmy shut the door, he noted the slight smile on his face.

Clearly this was a test.

Tim blinked slowly and took a deep breath, steeling himself for some complicated deductions.

He turned the ledger to the beginning, noting that the dates went back as far as a year ago. He then flipped through the pages and noted that the book was nearly full. The second book was nearly empty. A few quick comparisons led him to realize that there were a few long-term ops transferred to the new book while others were finished out in the old book.

Tim looked around his desk and opened a few drawers. Aside from a couple of paperclips and a Victor Adding Machine in the bottom drawer, it was empty. Jimmy really had purged everything of Terry's. He idly wondered if it was because Jimmy didn't care to keep any reminders of his former friend's treachery.

Sighing, he picked up the phone and was met with Holly's voice.

"Can I help you, Mr. Gemcity?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Stegman. I need some pencils and paper," he said.

"Right away," she replied. A moment later she appeared with several pads of paper and a stack of sharpened pencils.

He nodded and took them from her. Over the course of the day, he worked through the books until he understood them. The books that Napolitano had brought out from the safe were just the summary books that kept track of all the business lines. The other ledgers tracked the separate businesses in more detail. Before long, the big desk was covered with various ledgers as he worked through the numbers.

The math was complex and it was easy for him to see how Spooner had thought he could embezzle from Naps. But despite what Naps would like him to believe, Tim knew he understood the books and likely kept an eye on Terry for just that occasion where he might get greedy.

As he worked through the books, he was able to work out what some of the notations stood for. If he was correct with his assumptions, Napolitano had income from hundreds of clubs, prostitution rings and protection schemes. Then there were expenditures for what he suspected were payments to dozens of officials that were being bribed to look the other way. Unfortunately, he had no names to go with the payments although, some of the payments were fairly generous so Tim assumed that they were well placed politicians or law enforcement officers, potentially including the Prohibition Unit's mole.

Silently, he was amazed. Napolitano's operation was well beyond what they had anticipated. Tony and Gibbs had been inside Napolitano's network for months now but according to these books they had only found the tip of the iceberg.

He was going to have his work cut out for him but that could wait for another day. Now that he understood the legers, he started to check the most recent math. The handwriting was different than Terry's and he wondered if Naps had been keeping the books as of late. He shook his head. Whoever had been making notations had made several math errors. He corrected the mistakes and found that Jimmy was short.

Tim looked up as the door between his office and Jimmy's opened. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was already five thirty. He had worked the whole day straight through without stopping for lunch.

He frowned. He had a bad habit of becoming too engrossed in his work. And without a window to note the passage of time, he hadn't realized how late it had gotten.

"How's it going kid?" Naps asked as he looked down at the scattered papers on his desk. "You've been awfully quiet in here. I was beginning to think that you jumped ship."

"Of course not, Mr. Napolitano," he said. "I've been checking through your books and I've got some good news and some bad news for you," he said as he took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. After replacing his glasses, he said, "The good news is that I understand the books, even if I don't know your code."

"Good," Mr. Napolitano replied, pleased. "So, what's the bad news?"

"Your recent accountant made some mistakes," he said.

"Arithmetic was never a strong suit of mine," Naps replied confirming that he was the owner of the different handwriting. "What's the damage?"

"You're twenty-five dollars and sixty-four cents poorer than you thought you were," Tim replied.

Napolitano blinked at him then laughed heartily. "Is that all? That's chump change."

"Perhaps," he said as he began to gather up his notes. He walked over to the bookcase, pulled the proper book and opened the safe, depositing his notes inside along with the ledgers. "But mistakes can snowball if you don't catch them early enough. Did you know that there was an adding machine in the drawer?"

"I knew it was there but how can that thing know that one plus one is two?" Jimmy asked motioning towards the machine in the drawer.

"Mechanics," he said with a smile.

Jimmy snorted. "I'd rather use my own capo!" Jimmy looked towards the drawer. "I suppose since you knew about the machine, you'd rather do the same."

He closed the safe and the secret door. "Considering that today's exercise was more about puzzles than math, I was better off doing the work by hand. I may use it once I get into the meat of the job. I gather that I'll be receiving receipts periodically."

"Yeah," Naps replied. "Weekly. Gotta keep a close eye on things." He nodded. "The social clubs drop off statements of earnings on Tuesdays. The rest of the payments and earning statements come in Wednesday through Friday."

"And on Mondays?" he asked.

"Dale drops off the receipts for legal businesses," Napolitano replied. "I told him to hold off on this week's numbers, so you could get a feel for things."

"I appreciate that," he said grateful that he hadn't been expected to do any real work on his first day.

"He keeps a tidy set of books," Jimmy said. "So Monday is your quiet day."

"I'll consider myself warned," Tim said dryly as he collected his coat and hat.

Jimmy chuckled. "How's the new place? You find it to your liking?"

"Very much," he replied. "It is considerably better than my last apartment."

"Now you know how the other half lives," Jimmy said with a chuckle. He nodded even as he bit back a retort. While he was happy to be living in a better place, he also knew that no one wanted to live in a place like he had left behind. But many people these days couldn't afford anything better. "And what of DiNozzo? He going to work out?"

"We've had less than forty-eight hours to get to know each other," he said incredulously. Jimmy frowned. "I don't mean that as a bad thing," he said hastily. "But there is bound to be an adjustment period when you suddenly move in with someone you just met. We're still getting to know each other but I think things will work out."

"Good," Jimmy said pleased. "But you let me know if they don't. I can find someone else who can do the job."

"But not as well," he inferred.

Jimmy chuckled. "No one can accuse you of being slow on the uptake," Jimmy said. He sobered. "I picked DiNozzo because he's the best. His personality might be something to be desired but he's damn good at his job."

He nodded. "In the interest in having the best man for the job, I think I can put up with the personality quirks. Should things become intolerable, however, I will let you know."

"Good," Jimmy said.

"I will see you in the morning," Tim said.

"Count on it," Jimmy said as he watched Tim leave. "Oh and Tim. Feel free to decorate any way you like." Tim paused and looked around at his barren office. He nodded as Mr. Napolitano left.

He walked down the hall where he found Tony still waiting in the lounge. When Tony saw him, he got up, pulled on his coat and hat and followed Tim outside. Tony led him over to a shiny blue car.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Our new ride," Tony said with a grin. "1931 Ford Model A Deluxe Roadster. Forty horsepower, four cylinders, and genuine leather seats," he said, emphasizing every syllable of 'genuine.' "It gets up to sixty-five miles per hour."

He had to admit, it was sharp looking. He liked everything about it from the shiny blue paint to the white-walled tires and the tan fold down roof.

"I didn't realize we'd be getting a car to go with our apartment," he said as he admired the vehicle.

"Me neither," Tony said with a grin. "But when I talked to the guys about transportation, they told me Jimmy had taken care of it. And then this beauty turned up. It even has a heater!"

Tim looked at Tony. He distinctly looked like a kid in a candy store.

"What? Have a thing against being warm and toasty while cruising around the city? That heater isn't standard you know. Mr. Napolitano had that installed for you. Custom work," Tony said.

"It's not that," he replied. "I was just wondering if you can drive this thing?" Tim asked smiling mischievously even as he admired the car. He had never ridden in a car this nice let alone owned one. His father had owned a second-hand Model T when he had been a kid stationed in San Diego but that old Tin Lizzy had nothing on this car.

"Can I drive?" Tony asked indignantly. "Of course I can drive."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tim said as he looked over the roof at Tony. "Just remember that you aren't supposed to get me killed."


	9. Chapter 8 - Warning in White

**Chapter 8 – Warning in White**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

 _May 1932_

Tim sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He had been working for James Napolitano for two months, but he had only managed to crack a fraction of the ledger's code. Napolitano trusted him enough to let him in on the scope of his network. But he trusted no one with the code to the books. In that way, Naps protected himself and his investments.

And the job was exhausting. With the amount of work, he put in, as far as he was concerned, he earned every penny of his three hundred dollars a week.

Thankfully Dale kept the legal businesses straight with little trouble. He couldn't imagine trying to keep those books straight in addition to Jimmy's illicit businesses. Although, given how pale Dale was, he was pretty sure it was because the man was always inside working and rarely saw the sun. Or he was patently terrified of Jimmy. Or both. Any time Dale crossed paths with Jimmy, Dale clammed up and stammered so much he couldn't get any of his words out. Half the time, he had to tell Jimmy what Dale was trying to say.

As for his work load, club owners reported their earnings to regional accountants every Monday. Those regional accountants reported their earnings to him on Tuesdays. Naps' other business interests were similarly structured and reported on different days to their regional accountants and then to him.

By keeping his finances regionalized and compartmentalized, it reduced his risk. No one knew the full extent of the operation, which meant that if one person was picked up by the Prohibition Unit the impacts were minimal. Well he was the exception. If they picked him up the impacts would be catastrophic but fortunately he was well insulated.

And now that he was two months into the job, his responsibilities widened further. He was now inspecting the books of the regional accountants. Just last week, he encountered some irregularities in one of the regional accountant's books. His investigation led him to believe that the man had been stealing and apparently, he had admitted as much to Naps.

The man's body had been discovered yesterday. Jimmy had praised his work, but he wasn't pleased. A man had died because of him and he couldn't have done anything differently to prevent it. His only consolation had been that the man had been shot in the head rather than tortured to death like Terry Spooner.

"You ok McGee?" Tony asked as they walked down the sidewalk. "You've been sighing up a storm since we left the office." Tim didn't answer. "This is about that kid, Fred Seymour, isn't it?"

"I'd hardly call him a kid," Tim replied. "But yeah. It is."

"So that's the reason for the walk in the park?" Tony asked as they strolled down the paths of the National Mall.

"Well that and it's a nice day," Tim replied as he looked around.

"It's hot as hell out here, McGee," Tony complained as he took off his suit coat and started to roll up his sleeves. "Did you see that thermometer back on that barbershop? It read ninety-five degrees."

"It's in the full sun, Tony," he replied even as he mirrored his partner by pulling off his suit coat. It might not be ninety-five degrees, but it was hot and the breeze, while welcome, was warm. But it wasn't so bad under the trees. He looked around. The greenery of the park and the tree lined sidewalks were a welcome change from his office. "But I don't get outside often enough."

"I can't argue with that," Tony said as they slowly walked down the sidewalk. "At least you still have more color to you than Dale." He glared at his partner. "I know, that isn't hard. Look, you can't blame yourself for what happened to him!"

"Because I told Naps, Seymour is dead," Tim muttered. "How am I not responsible for what happened?"

"First of all, he was the one that stole from Napolitano and unless you were twisting his arm, that definitely isn't your fault." He nodded reluctantly. "And if you hadn't told Jimmy, you could be dead. Or worse, out of a job," Tony retorted. He snorted involuntarily. Tony was right. "You can't worry about that Tim."

He sighed. "I know."

"Still stinks though," Tony said.

"Yeah," Tim replied as they slowly walked.

He glanced at a makeshift camp that a couple families had set up under a tree. Three young boys were playing a short ways off and two women were talking quietly as they tended a pair of babies. Their husbands were passing out fliers and asking pedestrians to lobby their Congressmen to vote in favor of the Wright Patman Bonus Bill that would allow the veterans to collect their bonus right away.

They politely informed the men that they lived in Washington and so had no Congressman to lobby. The men thanked them and quickly moved onto the next group of people walking nearby.

They walked along in silence for a time. He was so lost in his thoughts that he wasn't paying attention to their path. He kept thinking about the Bonus Army men who were trying to get money to take care of their families just like Fred had been stealing from Naps to feed his family. He wasn't sure how things would turn out for the Bonus Army, but he knew that Fred's family was worse off than they were before he started stealing.

This depression had been hard on the entire country. He had been fortunate to be working for the navy when the markets crashed and so still had a steady job. And now he made more than enough money working for Naps. In light of the poverty of the veterans and their families, it made him feel guilty even though he knew he was risking his life in his attempt to take down James Napolitano.

He sighed again, thoroughly unhappy with things as they stood right now.

"Hey," Tony said clapping a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention. "I know just you need to cheer up. We should go out tonight," Tony said.

"And drown our sorrows in bootlegged liquor?" Tim asked wryly.

"Why not?"

"Aside from the fact that it is a Thursday and I have a ton of work to do tomorrow that it is better done without a hangover?" Tim asked. "What about liquor and getting drunk makes you think it'll make me feel better? It won't change what happened to Seymour." Suddenly he changed his mind. It had been a couple weeks since they had gone out. He didn't need to get corked to relax. He could use a distraction and some good jazz would do the trick, but a drink wouldn't hurt either. "You know what. Sure. I could use a little stress relief."

"That's the spirit!" Tony said slapping Tim on the back.

"Excuse me," a voice said drawing their attention. "Got a light?"

Tim looked over the man in front of him. He instantly recognized Leon Vance even if he was dressed in a white sailor's uniform. They had worked with Leon in Baltimore when they had worked port security. Leon worked on the docks and would relay inside information to them. Apparently, he had moved back to Washington and now was meeting them under the guise of a navy sailor.

"Yeah," Tony replied as he began to fish through his pockets for a book of matches.

"Thanks," Leon said. "Overheard you saying you were going out on the town tonight." He glanced at Tony and wondered why Vance had been tailing them. "You might want to consider a change in venue."

"Change in venue?" Tim asked in surprise.

"I wouldn't recommend the _Tin Angel_ tonight," Vance said pointedly.

"Is there going to be a raid?" Tony asked softly as he produced a book of matches. He struck a match and held it out for the sailor to light his cigarette.

"Yes," Leon replied as he lit the cigarette.

"Does Napolitano know?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Tim said at the same time as Leon answered. "The _Tin Angel_ is his flagship club, Tony. He's got enough sources inside the police force. _Someone_ has to have spilled the beans that his club is going to be raided."

"Right," Leon said agreeing. "Thanks for the light."

"Anything for one of our boys in uniform," he said as Vance hurried down the street. He watched as Leon snuffed the cigarette and hurried off. "That was strange," Tim said as they walked.

"He was waiting for us," Tony replied.

"How'd he know that we were going to walk here?" Tim asked. "I suggested it on a whim."

"He's been tailing us since we left the office," Tony said. "You didn't notice? Of course you didn't notice. You've been distracted by what happened to Seymour."

"I'm not that distracted Tony. I think I would have noticed a sailor following us," he retorted as they approached their car.

"He wasn't dressed as a sailor the whole time, McGee," Tony replied as he put the roof down. "He only put the sailor outfit on once we started walking around the park. As long as our car was here, he knew we hadn't left."

"So, he changed and then waited for us to walk by," Tim finished as Tony started the car. "Just to make sure we weren't going to the _Tin Angel_. Do you think Morrow sent him?"

"Yeah," Tony replied as he negotiated the streets. "We haven't kept it a secret that we go there. Morrow knows that we patronize illegal gin joints. He knows that it's part of the gig."

"I don't think he likes it though," he said, grateful that Tony had put the top down on the car.

"Me neither," Tony replied. He looked thoughtful. "I think he's kinda jealous."

"Jealous?" Tim asked. "Because he can't go himself."

"He is the navy liaison to the Bureau of Prohibition," Tony said. "How would it look if he got caught in an illegal club?"

"Good point. Well at least he's keeping us out of the law's cross hairs," he said. He sighed and fell silent. He watched the scenery as they drove. "I was really looking forward to that drink. So, if the _Tin Angel_ is out, you have any other suggestions?" Tim asked as they reached their neighborhood.

"Yeah," Tony replied as he swerved to park the car in a newly vacated spot. He glared at Tony as he was thrown slightly but his friend grinned at him irrepressibly. When they came to a stop, Tony looked at him and said, "Actually. A club called _Quicksilver_."

"I know that one," Tim said as they got out of the car. Tony quickly put the top up before they started to walk up the street to their apartment building. "That's the club run by a woman."

"Yeah but that's not the point. They have this great act. Well I've heard that she's amazing," Tony replied. "I've been meaning to go but you like the music at the _Tin Angel_ and she only started at _Quicksilver_ when you took the job with Napolitano." Tim shrugged. The _Tin Angel_ booked some of his favorite bands and it was Napolitano's best club, so it wasn't a hard choice. "It'll be nice to go someplace different, especially since I've heard good things about _Quicksilver_."

"I wasn't saying a club run by a woman was a bad thing Tony," Tim said as they nodded at the doorman. Jake Roberts tipped his cap as they entered the building and strode through the lobby, which buzzed with conversation as their neighbors chatted as they retrieved their mail. Tim quickly retrieved their mail and they made for the elevator just as several people stepped out of the car. They entered the elevator, greeting Pringle and rode to their floor in silence. He passed the kid a tip when they reached their floor and Pringle tipped his hat politely as they walked towards their apartment.

Tony opened the door and allowed Tim to enter. The windows were open, and several electric fans provided a nice breeze. While it was warm inside, it wasn't unbearable although he was certainly looking forward to putting on something cooler.

As he draped his coat over the back of the sofa, Tim picked up the conversation thread where they had left off. "A woman can have just as much business sense as any man," he said as he handed Tony his mail.

Tony snorted as he glanced at the letters, which appeared to be bills. "I've known some men with lousy business sense," Tony added as he tossed the bills onto the table.

"I know and that's my point," Tim said as he started to roll up his sleeves. "A man isn't necessarily good at business and being a woman doesn't make you inherently bad at it. The manager has a shrewd head for business and it isn't in spite of being a woman."

"Mr. DiNozzo! Mr. McGee!" a woman said from the dining room. "You two are late."

Tony grinned winningly. "So, are you our mother now, Anne?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Sometimes it feels like it," she retorted. "But I've already got two kids of my own. They're enough to handle. I don't need two grown men added into the mix."

"Sorry Anne," Tim said smiling wanly as he loosened his tie. "I had a difficult day at work so I went for a walk to clear my head."

She softened and replied, "Well I can't blame you, Mr. McGee. I find a nice walk will clear my head too although it is awfully warm out."

"We noticed," Tony said dryly as he rolled up his sleeves as well. He shrugged at his partner.

"Dinner will be ready in a moment, Mr. DiNozzo," Anne said.

Tony shook his head at her. "Anne, you know what we told you about calling…"

"You have," she said cutting him off. "Repeatedly. Can I help it if I'm polite?" He watched as Tony stared at her in an attempt to imitate Gibbs' infamous stare but without success. He bit back a laugh which made Anne smile. "I will try, Tony and Tim," she said emphasizing their names. "To remember to call you by your given names. But it is tough to break habits."

"Don't I know it," Tony muttered as he loosened his tie. "You keep forgetting and I'll keep reminding you."

"Fair enough," she said as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

"So, I thought you've never been to _Quicksilver_. How do you know about it?" Tony asked puzzled.

He sighed. "I haven't been. I just know it because of my work. I've seen the ledgers and the profits tell me that something is going right."

"I thought you hadn't cracked the code yet," Tony said softly as he removed his tie.

"I haven't," Tim replied frowning. "Well mostly." He lowered his voice. "From what I can tell, there are multiple codes within the ledgers." Tony shook his head, not understanding. "There's a code that masks the clubs' names. There's a code for his racketeering businesses. There's a code for his prostitution rings."

"I get it McGee," Tony said cutting him off.

"And," he said ignoring his partner. "There is a separate code for his blackmail business, which includes names of all of his sources of information." Tony's eyes widened. "But I haven't figured out that code yet. The clubs are easy to figure out since they are higher profile. I know most of Napolitano's bigger clubs. The _Tin Angel_ is his largest and his current favorite. I used that as a starting point and sorted out which club was which pretty easily."

"So, you know all of Napolitano's clubs?" Tony asked surprised.

He nodded. "I have since pretty much the moment I started working for Napolitano," he replied matter-of-factly.

Tony tossed his tie onto the sofa and walked over to the radio and turned it on. When he found a station playing music, Tony turned up the volume enough to keep their voices from being heard in the kitchen.

"Why didn't you tell me McGee?" Tony demanded as he rejoined Tim in the sitting area.

Surprised that Tony was upset, he replied, "I didn't think it was important, Tony. We're not going after his clubs. We're looking for…"

"I know what you're looking for," Tony said cutting him off. "But you don't know what I'm looking for." He looked at Tony in confusion. "You don't know what information might be useful to me or Gibbs." He watched as Tim's eyes lit up in understanding. "I know you weren't purposefully keeping secrets from us, but you need keep us in the loop from now on. On everything."

Tim nodded. "I will," he promised.

"Good," Tony said. "So, what do you know about _Quicksilver?_ "

"Well," he replied as he removed his tie and opened the collar of his shirt. "Before it was called _Quicksilver_ the club was named _Adam's Tavern_. It was a half decent bar, owned by an independent bootlegger until Napolitano took over. He wasn't pleased with the change in ownership and after six months he decided to skip town with most of the club's funds."

"I'm sure Jimmy liked that," Tony said sarcastically. "What happened to him?"

"You have to ask?" he asked incredulously as he sat down. "Napolitano's men tracked him down and did what they do." Tony rolled his eyes. "Problem is, they never got the cash back. Either he spent it all or stashed it somewhere. Jimmy looked for a while but decided it wasn't worth it."

"Couldn't have been that much if Jimmy gave up," Tony said as he took his seat.

"In the grand scheme of Jimmy's empire, it wasn't," Tim replied. "It hurt the club more. Jimmy wasn't keen on replenishing their reserves, especially since _Adam's Tavern_ was hemorrhaging cash. The new manager Jimmy appointed was all wet and _Adam's Tavern_ lost her clientele."

"I thought the club was doing well," Tony said.

"It is now," he said as he nodded. "The current manager used to be a bartender until she staged a mutiny and ousted him," Tim replied. "She renamed the club to _Quicksilver_ and started making all sorts of changes. At first Napolitano didn't want to let her keep the club but she convinced him to give her a chance. _Quicksilver's_ profits have grown significantly since she took over, so he's kept her on as manager of the club. She has full operational control and everything."

"You sure know a heck of a lot about this club, McGee," Tony said.

He shrugged. "I was talking to Naps about it just last week. He's been very impressed with what she's done with it."

"The manager has been doing some renovations," Tony said as he settled onto one of the sofas. "Gibbs has been doing the work for her."

"How'd you hear that?" he asked. "When did you hear that? I didn't think you'd spoken to Gibbs in ages. And since we've been together practically every moment since I started working for Naps two months ago, I know you haven't seen him."

"Not in person," Tony conceded. "He sent a message through a mutual friend, Chris Pacci, to set up a call. I stepped out while you were working and used the pay phone on the corner to call Gibbs."

"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" Tim asked.

"Because," Tony said sternly. "You were moping about Seymour and I was more interested in cheering you up than sharing what only amounts to gossip." Tim frowned. "Gibbs doesn't have anything new except that he's been spending a lot of time working for the dame that runs _Quicksilver._ "

"So, he's the one telling you good things about the show?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "She's pretty and exotic. Apparently, she's from Palestine."

"Really?" Tim asked intrigued. "She's a long way from home."

"Gibbs says she's a real looker," Tony replied thinking back. "Although you know his taste in women but if she has a voice half as nice as Gibbs says she sounds, then she's got to be a choice bit of calico."

"Wait," he asked in surprise. "So, you're saying that Gibbs has actually _liked_ what she was singing?"

"Yeah," Tony replied. Suddenly Tony realized what he insinuated. "Damn, she must be something else if she's gotten Gibbs to tolerate hot music."

"Yeah," he said chuckling.

Tony took a deep breath as he allowed that information to sink in. "Sounds like we have a plan. I'll make a call before we go out to get the password to get in." Suddenly Tony sniffed the air. "Anne, is that garlic toast I smell?"

"Yes," Anne replied as she leaned against the door frame. "I thought you might like a taste of home, Tony. So, I talked with the owner of the pharmacy near my apartment. His mother's side of the family is from Italy. He gave me some recipes that would remind you of home. So tonight, I made spaghetti carbonara with garlic toast and tiramisu for dessert." He looked at Tony in surprise. "I didn't make the tiramisu," Anne said hastily. "Mr. Cabrisio's daughter, Louise, bakes and he sells her baked goods in his shop."

Tony grinned and said, "I love you. Hiring you was the smartest thing McGee has ever done."

"Pretty sure that isn't true, but I appreciate your kind words," Anne said. "I hope you like dinner tonight. I know it's a little unusual and if you don't, there's some cold roast beef in the refrigerator."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Tim said. "I've loved everything you cook for us."

"I could make you something that reminds you of home too Tim, if you'd like," Anne said. "I don't know much about Irish food…"

"That's ok," he said hastily. "I'm not really Irish. I mean, my name is, but my family has been here for generations. I'm as American as you are."

"So, what was your favorite meal growing up?" Anne asked.

"Hmm," he said as he thought back. "I was particularly fond of poke and kahlua pork. But I used to love laulau the most. There was a street vendor that sold the best laulau just off the base."

"What on earth is any of that stuff?" Tony asked.

"Oh, uh, Hawaiian foods," Tim replied. "My father was stationed in Pearl Harbor when I was a teenager. Poke is raw tuna in shoyu with limu, salt and onion." Tony stared at him again. "Shoyu is soy sauce and limu is seaweed."

"Sounds delicious," Tony said sarcastically.

"Don't knock it until you try it," he countered.

"What is kahlua pork and laulau?" Anne asked changing the subject.

"Kahlua pork is a whole pig roasted in an earth oven," he said.

"Since I doubt that the building will let me dig a pit in the courtyard," Anne said with a laugh. "That's out too. What about that other one?"

"Laulau is chicken or pork wrapped in taro leaves that's then wrapped in ti leaves and steamed," he explained. Anne frowned. "Honestly, if you keep making the meals you've been cooking I'll be happy. Tony's right. Hiring you clean and to cook our evening meals was probably one of my better ideas. Neither of us are nearly as good a cook as you are."

"It's my pleasure, Tim," she said, disappearing into the kitchen. "I enjoy working for two such handsome gentlemen."

"I wouldn't let your husband hear that," Tony said as he sat at the table. "We don't want to cause trouble."

"Oh, he knows," she said as she reappeared with two plates full of pasta. She set it onto the table and then disappeared again. A moment later, she reappeared with a plate full of garlic toast. "He makes good money for the Navy but with the new baby, he took on a second job in a hardware store to help pay the bills. Losing that extra money was hard when he deployed. Henry offered to get a job to help but he's still a boy and shouldn't have to worry about those things. Working for you two a few hours every week has been just what we needed so that we don't have to worry about money."

"I'm sure it doesn't hurt that McMoneybags pays well," Tony said as he slurped in some pasta.

"Your table manners are terrible," he remarked as Anne laughed.

"That doesn't hurt at all," she agreed. "Mr. McGee pays more than what he probably should." She jolted. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I remember what it was like when my dad deployed during the war," he said as he picked up a piece of toast. "I know that Henry has enough to worry about without worrying about making sure the bills are paid. Consider it my way of paying it forward to a fellow member of the Navy family."

"I'm sure David will want to meet you when he returns from his deployment in a few months," Anne said.

"I'm looking forward to meeting him too," he said.

"I'm glad he was deployed," Tony said as he spun his fork into the pasta.

"What?" Tim asked. "You're glad that Anne had to take on a job that keeps her from her kids?"

"Well that part isn't great," Tony admitted. "But if he hadn't deployed, we would have never gotten to meet Anne and her heavenly carbonara," Tony replied as he bit into his dinner. "You might not be Italian by birth, but this dinner makes you an honorary Italian!"

Tim rolled his eyes as Anne threw her towel at Tony.

"What?" Tony asked innocently.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** It's amazing what information you can find online if you just know where to dig. I'm not sure why I was looking up historical meteorological data for Washington DC (I think it was for a later chapter) but I discovered that Washington DC did have a mini heat wave in May of 1932. Per the weather records, DC hit 91°F (or 33°C for the rest of the world) on May 7, 1932. When I found that, I incorporated it into the story. Unfortunately for our boys, air conditioning wasn't really a thing back then!

Momcat: Pale Dale was a character in the episode _Shell Game_ (14x06). He was a forensic accountant with NCIS brought in to track money that had been stolen.


	10. Chapter 9 - Eighteenth Amendment

**Chapter 9 – Eighteenth Amendment**

 _Tony DiNozzo_

* * *

"Wow," Tony said as they entered the club. "Impressive."

Like most of the larger speakeasies, this one was located in the basement of a large building. Like the _Tin Angel,_ this one was in a garment factory in an unassuming neighborhood but this one made men's trousers. The _Tin Angel_ , on the other hand, was in a factory that made men's shirts.

From the interior of the club, he would never have suspected that they were in the basement of an industrial building. But the roughhewn brick walls and the heavy wood-plank ceiling were reminders that they weren't exactly in a fine building off DuPont Circle.

After entering the building, they had gone through a door cleverly camouflaged to look like the rest of the wall. That door led to a long set of stairs that led down to the club. The room was warmly lit and luxuriously adorned with burnt orange and crimson draperies and tied back with black sashes to soften the rough brick walls. In contrast, snowy white linens covered the tables that were sprinkled throughout the room and booths with padded seats lined the walls of the club.

A long wooden bar was located to their right. Behind it were shelves of liquor that stood on finely crafted wooden shelves in front of a burnished silver backdrop. Bartenders were busy filling orders for clients and a steady stream of waitresses that weaved their way through the tables. To their left, they saw a generous stage that was perhaps knee-high with an area for dancing just in front of it. The ample stage held a piano, a drum set, six chairs for the band and a standup microphone in the center of the stage.

With the club underground, it was significantly cooler than it was outside, although he'd be hard-pressed to say it was cold inside the club. But as they stepped further into the room, he realized that there were several industrial ceiling fans stirring up a nice breeze that made it more comfortable. Those fancy buildings off DuPont Circle didn't have ceiling fans like an industrial building like this.

"DiNozzo?" a familiar voice asked.

Turning around, he saw Gibbs walking towards the bar, empty glass in hand.

"Gibbs," Tony said repressing a grin as their boss changed direction to join them. It was the first time they had seen Gibbs in two months and he was surprised by how happy he was to see their boss.

"What brings you here?" Gibbs asked looking over Tim, keeping up the act that he didn't know McGee. But he knew that Gibbs was checking over Tim to make sure he was all right.

"Felt like a change of scenery," Tony replied. "Gibbs, this is Tim McGee. Tim, this is Gibbs, Napolitano's handy man."

"Jethro Gibbs. Nice to meet you," Gibbs said with only a hint of irony as he nodded at Tim. "So, what made you change venues? I thought you liked the _Tin Angel?_ " Gibbs asked.

"We ran into an old friend from Baltimore. I might have mentioned Leon to you before?" Gibbs nodded. "He suggested that our usual spot might be a little crowded tonight," Tony replied as he looked at Gibbs meaningfully.

"I see," Gibbs replied.

"My pal here," he said as he roughly chucked Tim's shoulder much to his partner's annoyance. "Is a fan of hot music and I told him about the singer you were telling me about. So, we decided to check out this place. Never expected that we'd actually run into you."

"Came by for a drink," Gibbs replied as he held up his empty glass. "Was about to leave before it got too…" Gibbs searched for a diplomatic word. "Loud."

He glanced at the stage, the band was just starting to take their seats.

"Think I could temp you to stay for another and catch up?" he asked meaningfully.

A hint of smile tugged at the corner of Gibbs' mouth. "Yeah," Gibbs said. "If you're buying."

"Gibbs!" a voice said. They turned around and blinked in surprise. The source of the voice was quite shocking. The woman in front of them had her hair pulled up into two small knobs on each side of her head. This revealed dark makeup and a large spider web tattoo on the side of her neck.

He looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Tim was staring at the strange woman in a way that his friend rarely looked at a woman. In fact, he wasn't sure that he had ever seen his partner look at a woman like that. Tim wasn't leering at her, but he was certainly transfixed by her appearance.

Not that he blamed Tim. She was a looker.

She was dressed in a low-cut red and black beaded dress with a fringed skirt that revealed the long black lacy slip underneath. The dress hugged her body and accented her curves and red teardrop necklace hung just below her throat. He followed her long, black nylon-clad legs to the floor and noted a pair of red and black heels that matched her dress.

"You didn't say you were bringing friends tonight," she said sweetly which seemed to be in direct contrast with her clothing.

"I didn't bring them. They showed up on their own," Gibbs replied. "And I only know Tony."

"Tony DiNozzo," Tony said introducing himself.

"Abby Sciuto," she said. "Manager of _Quicksilver_. Who's the handsome guy catching flies and looking me up and down?" she asked as she eyed Tim up and down appreciatively.

He looked at his friend bemused. Tim wasn't usually the one to get caught staring at a girl.

Tim didn't reply so he smacked his friend on his arm to galvanize him. "You going to answer the girl McGee or are you just going to stare at her all right?"

Tim jolted and shut his mouth. "Timothy McGee," he said flushing slightly.

"Really?" she asked intrigued. "Gibbs, you know people in high places."

"I do?" Gibbs asked looking at Tim.

"Yeah," she said chucking Gibbs on the arm. "This is Timothy McGee, Mr. Napolitano's new financial expert."

Tim was shocked. She knew who he was? He looked at his partner in surprise then at Miss Sciuto. How on earth could she know who Tim was already?

"You're kidding, right?" Gibbs asked trying to cover for them. He was usually cool undercover, but this strange woman had even knocked him off kilter.

"Nope and from your reaction, I know I'm right," she said with a sly smile.

He glanced at Gibbs and realized that there was nothing they could say that would convince her that Tim wasn't Napolitano's accountant. Gibbs shrugged lightly, accepting it.

"How'd you know that? I thought that Napolitano's money man was a highly classified secret?" Tony said.

"It is," Abby said earnestly. "But the club's boiler has been acting up lately and the cost to repair it is more than I have available right now. I spoke to Mr. Napolitano about a small loan. According to him, as long as Mr. Thom E. Gemcity could free up some cash, I'd have my loan."

"Yeah but his name is McGee," he said jabbing his thumb in Tim's direction.

"I know," she replied. "It's an alias. Timothy McGee. Thom E. Gemcity." She leaned in towards Tim and whispered conspiratorially, "I'm really good at puzzles, Timmy."

Flabbergasted, Tim looked at him, but he couldn't find any words to respond to this strange woman either.

Suddenly she spun on her heel and said, "You three are my guests tonight." But no one moved. She paused and looked back at them. "Come on boys. Get the lead out!"

Jolting, they followed her to a plush booth and sat down. There was a minor scuffle as he forced Tim to sit next to Abby. Tim glared at him, but he could see that it was only half-hearted.

A waitress appeared a moment later.

"Drinks are on me tonight, boys. Gibbs can vouch for it; we have a fully stocked bar with the highest quality liquor so order anything you'd like," she said. "Michelle, I'll take a Sazerac."

"Bourbon, neat," Gibbs replied.

"Gin Rickey," Tony said.

"Uh, I'll take a Bacardi cocktail," Tim replied quickly.

"Coming right up," Michelle said with a smile.

"So, what brings you to my humble club?" Abby asked after Michelle had left.

Tim's tongue was still tied over the striking manager, so he took the initiative to explain. "I've heard that your house act is something to see," Tony replied.

Abby grinned. "Oh, she is. Just you wait," she replied. "And she can sing too," Abby added causing him to smile. "Since you're here on a school night, I hope you'll have some nice things to say about my club to Mr. Napolitano tomorrow, Mr. McGee."

"Tim," he replied hastily. "You can call me Tim and so far, that's the case," he said with a smile. Abby smiled brightly in return.

He looked at Gibbs who didn't share the smile. They could both see that Tim was smitten with this odd young woman. He had barely taken his eyes off her since they met. Unfortunately, they couldn't discuss the issue at the moment. He needed to warn his partner about getting mixed up with the manager of one of Napolitano's clubs. But the arrival of their drinks distracted him.

He sipped his drink and nodded appreciatively. The gin was good, and the bartender hadn't skimped on the liquor. So many of these clubs watered down their hooch to make an extra buck.

He paused and looked around. It was a little after eight and the club was already filling up nicely. If it continued at this pace, the club would be full within the hour and he wasn't surprised. The liquor was of good quality, the atmosphere was nice, and apparently, they had one hell of a show.

"You like what you see, Tim?" Abby asked.

"Yeah," Tim replied. He noticed his friend was looking intently at Miss Sciuto. "But I'm curious about the name. Did you name the club after the element, the Roman God or the planet?"

Abby smiled at Tim and he watched as his friend's heart fluttered. Damn, Tim was head over heels for this odd dame and they had only known each other for five minutes tops. "What do you think?"

Tim looked around again. "Well another name for quicksilver is mercury so it could be the element because of accents like the bar and the silver trappings. Or with the reds and oranges, you could be referencing the planet, which is closest to the sun and probably the hottest of the planets in our solar system. But it is also possible that you were referencing Mercury the Roman God of commerce and trade, which would be fitting for a business. Or it could be just because you liked the word."

"Those are all good reasons," she said. "Did you consider that I named it _Quicksilver_ because mercury is poisonous and so is alcohol?"

"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly.

He nodded, and they quickly left the booth. He was pretty sure that neither Tim nor Abby noticed. They were completely enraptured with one another.

They settled at a table nearby just as the band began to play.

"You sure it's a good idea leaving those two together, Gibbs?" he asked, noting that the band was loud enough to cover their conversation.

"Abby and Tim?" Gibbs asked incredulously.

"You tell me," he countered. "You know Tim and you know Abby better than I do." Gibbs looked at Tim and Abby for a long moment. They were already deep in conversation. Gibbs looked at him meaningfully. "That's what I thought. I'll say something."

"Good luck getting a word in edgewise," Gibbs said wryly. Gibbs sipped his drink. "Leon Vance warned you about the _Tin Angel?"_

"Yeah," he replied as he sipped his drink. "Pretty sure that Morrow sent him to warn us that she was going to be raided. Good thing he did, we were going out for a drink tonight." Gibbs looked at him questioningly. "Tim had a rough week. I convinced him to go out for a drink to let off some steam."

"Something happen?" Gibbs asked. He glanced at his boss. Gibb's expression was neutral, but he heard the concern in his voice.

"He found evidence that one of Napolitano's employees was stealing," he replied. "The body turned up with a round to the head yesterday. Naps was pleased. Tim, not so much."

Gibbs frowned and glanced at Tim.

"He's holding up just fine, Gibbs," he said defensively.

"Wasn't suggesting he wasn't," Gibbs said slowly. "But I know he'd feel guilty even if he was just doing his job." Tony nodded. Gibbs knew Tim just as well as he did. "I know we just talked but it wasn't a long conversation. We didn't have time to cover two months."

"Not much has happened in two months," he replied. "Tim's been working as Jimmy's accountant and to break the codes," he said. "No luck on figuring out who the mole is though."

"I figured that much," Gibbs said. "You'd have tried harder to make contact before now."

"We talked about this, Gibbs," he said defensively. "We didn't want to push a meeting and risk raising suspicions."

Gibbs sipped his drink and nodded. "I know, DiNozzo."

The way Gibbs was looking at him, he knew that he was out of line. He took a deep breath and sipped his drink. Glancing at Tim, he noted his young partner was still deep in conversation with Abby.

"Sorry, Gibbs," he replied as he watched people dance to the lively music. "I guess I'm a bit defensive. Became a bit of a habit over these last two months." Gibbs nodded. "Especially since we've been on our own since Jimmy hired Tim."

Gibbs set his drink down. "You're doing fine."

He nodded. "Doesn't mean we wouldn't be doing better if we could work with our partner," he added as he finished his drink.

"If the _Tin Angel_ did get raided tonight," Gibbs said as he finished his drink. "That could give you an excuse to come here more where our paths would cross."

"It'd be real nice if we could make this a regular thing," he said genuinely.

Gibbs nodded in agreement.

"Nice to see you too, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as a dark-haired woman stepped onto the stage.

Her hair was pulled up and held in place with sparkling hair clips. She had on a floor-length silk dress with beading on the bodice and pearl necklace at her throat. The crowd cheered and clapped for her but fell silent as she stepped up to the microphone.

He had to admit, Gibbs hadn't been pulling his leg when he had said Ms. David was good. She not only had a great voice, but she knew how to work a crowd. He kinda hoped that the _Tin Angel_ had been raided if only to have another excuse to see Ms. David sing.

When she finished her first set, the band took over and the crowd started to dance again. He ordered another round and while Tim and Abby talked, he and Gibbs shared everything that had happened over the last two months.

Gibbs had mostly spent his time working for Napolitano and helping Abby fix up her club. He had heard grumblings about the up and coming mobster, La Grenouille who was snapping up independent clubs and other illicit businesses. So far, he hadn't put much pressure on Napolitano's network, but word was it was only a matter of time before the two clashed.

He listened with interest. Being on Tim's protection detail, he was removed from the street gossip. But given what Gibbs was saying, he decided to reach out to some old friends. If a turf war was brewing, he and Tim could find themselves on the front lines and he wanted as much forewarning as possible.

Between the drinks, the good music and seeing Gibbs for the first time in months, he found that he was enjoying himself. Tim and Abby were in a lively conversation, so his partner was feeling better. All in all, it was a good night.

But some five hours later, his enthusiasm had waned. The club was nearly empty except for a man passed out on one of the tables and a very involved couple necking in a booth. Tony sighed as he rubbed his eyes. Even Gibbs had gone home.

And yet, Tim and Abby were still talking in the same booth he and Gibbs had left them in hours ago.

He stood up and walked over to their table.

"Ok lover boy," Tony said not caring that he had interrupted Tim in the middle of a sentence. "Let's go."

"Huh?" Tim asked looking around. "We just got here. I haven't even heard Miss David sing yet."

"You missed her. Twice," Tony said as he looked at his watch. "We've been here five hours."

Tim looked around in shock. He then looked at his own watch. Evidently, he wasn't sure if he should believe it because he tapped the face of the watch.

"Yeah, it's really after one in the morning," he said grumpily even as Abby smiled. "And I'm sure Miss Sciuto would like to get some sleep. Just like I do, and you should too. You have to be at work in less than six hours."

"Right," Tim said. "Give me a minute." Tony nodded and stepped off to the side to give his partner his privacy but in the empty club, his voice still carried. "Wow. I don't know what happened to the time. I really should go."

"Are you going to come back again?" Abby asked.

"I think I have a reason or two to come back," Tim said. "I might even make it back tonight."

"I'll be looking for you," Abby replied with a pleased smile.

Smiling, Tim leaned forward and kissed Abby on the cheek. She smiled sweetly as he pulled back. "Can we offer you a lift home?" Tim asked.

"No," she replied. "That's sweet but I can manage." He watched as Tim started to protest. "I do this every night, Tim. I'll be fine. I don't live far."

Tim nodded, accepting her answer. "Until tonight then," he replied as he left. When Tim reached Tony, he rolled his eyes. "What?" Tim asked.

"You're grinning like an idiot," Tony replied as Abby called her security to give the drunken man the bum's rush before turning on the amorous couple telling them to go get a room. The abashed couple hastily gathered their belongings and bolted from the club, probably to take her up on her advice from the looks of things.

"Your point?" Tim asked as they made their way up the stairs. "I met someone nice."

"You met an odd duck, McGee," Tony said as they exited into the night air. The temperature had dropped but it was still warm out.

"So, she looks different," Tim retorted. "But she's one of the smartest people I've ever met. She has two degrees, Tony. Chemistry and mathematics. How many men do you know with even one of those degrees?"

"You have two degrees, McGee," Tony retorted. "Mechanical and electrical engineering."

"I know that but she's a woman and it's rare that a woman has one degree let alone two in a technical field," Tim retorted as they got into the car. "I'm coming back to see her again tonight."

"I'll make sure to catch up on my sleep during the day," he replied drolly as he started the car.

"I can't believe we spent so much time talking," Tim said half to himself. "And I missed Miss David?"

"Yeah," he replied as he pulled away from the curb.

"How was she?" Tim asked.

"Good," he said as he thought back to her singing. She was sultry, beautiful and mysterious. And he had never heard a voice like hers before. Just as Tim had been enraptured by the strange club manager, he had been entranced by Miss David. Either she was a great performer, or she had caught his eye during her first set. And during her last set, he could swear that she had been singing to him. "She was better than good," he amended. "She was better than advertised." He needed to find a way to meet the beautiful singer.

Tim sighed. "I'm sorry I missed it," he said.

"No, you're not," he replied as he glanced at his partner. He watched as small smile started at the corner of McGee's mouth.

"No, I'm not," Tim admitted. "I've never met anyone quite like Abby."

"Not surprising," he replied. "I've never seen a woman with a tattoo let along a tattoo of a spider web on her neck. Was she a sailor in another lifetime? Or maybe the spider means she's a black widow?"

"No," Tim replied defensively. "She's never been married. Tattooing is an ancient form of artwork. And just because she's a woman it doesn't mean she can't have one. Actually, they've found a number of female mummies in Egypt with all kinds of tattoos."

"Tattooed Egyptian mummies?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Tim replied excitedly. "Some scholars think that they were talismans for a safe pregnancy and birth."

"So, you're saying that her spider web tattoo is a talisman for a safe pregnancy?" he asked. It didn't sound right even to his ears but at this hour of the night, it made as much sense as anything. "She has a kid? I thought you said she's never been married?"

Tim looked baffled. "No. She just likes spider webs," Tim replied.

He blinked in shock and shook his head to clear away his own cobwebs. "Seriously, McGee."

"I know," Tim said cutting Tony off. "I know what you're going to say."

"Do you?" he asked. "You're undercover. But that could change at any moment and then what? You'll both get hurt. Or even worse, she could out you to Napolitano if she makes you, then you'll be dead." Tim looked at him incredulously. "She ain't no dumb Dora. She figured out your alias in no time flat. You don't think she's capable of figuring out you're the law?" Tim nodded reluctantly in concession. "This woman makes a living operating an illegal club. She may not want to give that up for you or because of you."

"I know," Tim said with a sigh.

He glanced at his partner who was staring out the passenger window sullenly. He felt bad for Tim. They hadn't had much time to really meet anyone with their work. Well he had managed just fine, but Tim wasn't as smooth with the ladies. And besides, his young partner wasn't looking for a good time. He was looking for steady girl that maybe he could marry and have a family with.

He couldn't picture Miss Sciuto as the marrying type, but he couldn't deny that they had hit it off.

"Look," he said gently. "I'm not going to tell you not to keep seeing this woman," Tony said. "Because you obviously like her and I think she likes you." Tim looked at him hopefully. "And you deserve to be happy. But she manages an illegal club, Tim and you are an undercover federal agent. Things might not end well if you get dizzy with this dame."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So about the cocktails that everyone ordered. They're all Prohibition Era or older.

Abby ordered a Sazerac which originated in New Orleans, naturally. It was originally made with Cognac and absinthe but later became a whiskey cocktail when Cognac grapes were decimated by disease. It's a combination of rye whiskey, absinthe (or another anise flavored liquor after absinthe was banned) simple syrup, bitters and a lemon twist.

Tony ordered a Gin Rickey which is gin, lime and club soda. The Gin Rickey is the Capital's official cocktail and it was a favorite of journalists and politicians at the bar where it was invented (prior to Prohibition.)

Tim ordered a Bacardi Cocktail which is basically a daiquiri with a bit of grenadine (pomegranate simple syrup). It contains light rum, lime juice, grenadine and is shaken until cold and served over ice, which would be very refreshing during a heat wave.


	11. Chapter 10 - Personal Connections

**Chapter 10 – Personal Connections**

 _Gibbs_

* * *

"I appreciate you taking a look for me, Mr. Gibbs," Hollis said as she unlocked the door to her apartment. "I know you must have better things to do on a Sunday morning."

"You don't need to call me Mister," he said evenly. Even after all this time, being called Mr. Gibbs made him think of his father and part of him still regretted that it had been years since they had spoken to one another. But since it had been so long, it made it harder for either of them to take the first step. And for better or worse, neither of them had.

She opened the door pushing thoughts of his father from his mind. He started to follow her but she paused in the doorway and looked at him. "Well then what can I call you?" she asked. "I assume that you do have a given name even if I've never heard anyone use it."

He smiled slightly at that. "I do," he replied. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs." She looked at him as if she was trying to sort out whether he was serious or not. "You can call me Jethro. Or Gibbs will do just fine. Miss Mann."

"Yeah," she said. "I see why you prefer your surname."

He shrugged. He had nothing against his name and liked it just fine. But it wasn't common either. And for some reason, people felt more comfortable calling him by his surname, so he let them.

"Most people seem more comfortable with my surname," he said.

"Leroy it is," she said with a smile, but he frowned. His father called him Leroy. "Jethro?" she asked. He nodded, appreciating that she didn't ask why he was averse to his given name. "Well come on in Jethro," she said as she entered her modest apartment. It wasn't large by any standards, but it was clean, bright and tastefully decorated. "You can call me Hollis. I've never cared for being called, Miss Mann," she said with a small smile.

He looked her in the eye and nodded to indicate that he would use her given name.

"So, you have a leak."

"Yeah," she replied nodding. "I hope you don't mind that I got your phone number from Abby. But I know you've done some work for her and I'd rather have someone I know take a look at it first."

"I don't mind," he replied.

He had met Hollis at _Quicksilver_ numerous times over the last two months and he couldn't help but notice the strong and beautiful woman who was working to spruce up the linens, curtains and upholstery of the formerly rundown speakeasy while he worked to upgrade the bar, fixtures and anything else that Abby could think of to add a touch of class to the once pedantic club. They had talked on several occasions and he had felt the magnetic pull between them and from her expression, she felt it too.

It had been a long time since he had been this attracted to a woman and it had been even longer since he had allowed himself to flirt with a woman if it wasn't case related. But with her, he couldn't seem to help himself. She was easy to be around and he admired her strength and inner beauty. So, when she asked if he'd be willing to look into a leaky bathroom, he had readily agreed if only to spend more time with her.

"I can hear it in the bathroom after I draw my bath," she said.

Nodding, he stepped past her and into the bathroom. He ran the water for a minute and when he turned off the taps, he heard the unmistakable sound of water dripping.

"Your landlord won't fix the leak?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "Because I don't have a landlord. I own my apartment." He looked at her in surprise. "What? A woman can't own property?"

"That's not what surprised me," he replied evenly. "This is a nice apartment building. Seems like it would be expensive to buy a place here."

Hollis relaxed. "Yeah, it wasn't cheap," she replied. "And I doubt the bank would have given me a mortgage for it, being a woman and all. But I didn't need one. I bought it outright."

"Impressive," he said as he reached into his toolbox and found a heavy hammer.

"Earned every penny the hard way," she said as she watched him. "I served in the army in the Great War. I saved my salary and put it to good use when I came home."

"Nurse?" he asked wondering if he might have crossed paths with her.

"Telegraph operator," she corrected. "At least to start. Once they realized I also spoke French, I served as a translator and interpreter between the American and French units."

"Aren't those the same thing?" he asked. "Translator and interpreter?" he asked.

Hollis chuckled. "Not in the least bit," she said. "The only common thread is that two languages are involved. One involves translating written documents and the other involves interpreting speech."

"Seems the same to me," he replied.

"There's a difference," she said firmly.

Deciding to leave it be, he changed the subject. "You served at the front?" he asked.

She nodded. "Or very near to it," she replied. He raised his hammer to break into the wall. "You're going to make a mess aren't you," she said dryly.

He turned around and looked at her. "Unless you'd rather keep the leak?"

She sighed. "No. Go right ahead."

Nodding, he carefully broke through the plaster until he found the source of the leak. He grabbed a flashlight and looked into the crevasse. One of the pipes was cracked and was dripping.

"What do you see?" she asked.

He turned to tell her but was surprised when he realized that her face was only inches from his. He watched as she swallowed hard. He liked that he had that effect on her. After all, it was only fair since she had that same effect on him.

He waited another minute to answer, daring her to act on what she was thinking but unfortunately, she didn't. "Iron pipes," he replied finally.

"Oh," she said, the moment broken. "I figured that you'd find those in there."

"Rusting iron pipes," he amended as he reached into his toolbox and pulled out a metal sleeve. He wrapped it around the leak and tightened the screw, effectively stopping the leak for now. "They'll need to be swapped out for new."

"Oh," she said her face falling. "You know a good plumber that won't rip me off?" she asked.

"I know a great plumber," he replied. "And his rates are reasonable." He stood up and looked at her. He already knew that he'd do the job at cost for her. Spending more time with Holly would be payment enough.

"Really?" she asked, realizing that he was speaking about himself. "How do you know someone is trustworthy?"

"You look them in the eyes," he replied.

She nodded and looked him in the eyes. "Then what?" she asked.

"You read what is behind their eyes," he replied as he read her eyes. It wasn't hard. He could see what she wanted as clear as day.

She smiled a little. "Ok, so what do you see in my eyes?" she asked.

He searched every inch of her blue eyes for good measure. "You want me to kiss you," he replied.

"Yeah," she said bluntly. "I've been waiting for you to figure that out for quite some time now." He smiled a little at her. "Are you always this bad at taking hints or are you just a little slow?"

He chuckled. "Some people call that being a gentleman."

"Well I call it being stupid," she replied. "If a man and a woman are attracted to one another they should do something about it…"

He cut her off in midsentence by pulling her close and into a deep kiss that left them both a little breathless when they finally broke apart. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he settled his hands on her hips. She swallowed hard. "See now that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked.

"No," he said clearing his throat slightly. "Not bad at all."

"So," she said as she glanced back at the hole in her wall. "How long is it going to take to repair my apartment?"

"Well," he said as he looked at her. "I have to order the pipes and it'll take a few days for them to come in. Then I'll have to tear out the plaster, replace the pipes and plaster the wall again. Could be a while."

She examined him intently but her face wasn't readable. "So, you'll be hanging around for a while?" she asked.

He nodded. "You trying to get rid of me?" he asked with a crooked smile.

She looked thoughtfully. "On the contrary," she said. "I was thinking of ways to get you to stay around longer. I have a loose doorknob on the pantry door…"

He cut her off as he pulled her into a kiss again.

When they broke apart for the second time he said, "You could just ask me to stay."

"Then who'll fix my pantry door?" she asked innocently. He stared at her but he didn't put the fury behind it that motivated his agents so well. She looked at him seriously and said, "Would you like to stay a while?"

He glanced back towards her bed. "Do you want me to stay a while?" he asked.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," she said deliberately. "What do _you_ want?"

He shook his head and smiled at her game. "Depends on if you want the same thing," he said to exasperate her.

She shook her head and smiled. "I have known you for two months, Jethro and all I know about you is that you are a complicated man. You won't say ten words if none will do." He shrugged a little, causing her to laugh at his joke. "I also know that you are a good man. That shows through the work that you do for Abby." He nodded. "And I know you like coffee. Probably more than any other man on the planet." He chuckled at that. "The rest is a mystery."

She started to back up towards the bed until she lay back onto it. She pulled him down with her, heedless of his rough and dusty work clothes. She pulled him into another long kiss. "And that is the part I'm looking forward to sorting out," she said.

"I'm looking forward to you trying," he replied.

"I should warn you," she replied. "I like a challenge."

He smiled. So did he.

He didn't have the supplies he needed to complete the plumbing job at hand anyway so he hadn't expected to get any work done today. But even if he had the necessary supplies, they were rapidly becoming engrossed in one another. And that put the thoughts of plumbing and the whole in the wall out of both of their minds.

He finally left Hollis' apartment after dinner. He had promised to call her as soon as he had the supplies to repair her bathroom. But unable to repress his romantic side and his desire to see her again, he already had plans to stop by her shop tomorrow morning with a bouquet of flowers.

And he also had the repair job to look forward to. Replacing iron pipes wasn't hard but it would take time to make sure it was done right. And he suspected that the repair job was going to take longer due to other distractions in the apartment. He was pretty sure that Hollis didn't mind and he knew he didn't.

But that left him with a lot to think about.

He placed his toolbox into the bed of his truck and climbed into the cab.

He was undercover and while he wasn't in a high-risk position like DiNozzo or McGee, he didn't want to chance blowing his cover. He wouldn't want anything with Hollis to ruin what they had worked so hard to achieve.

He thought back to the last few nights at _Quicksilver._ Tim had been infatuated with Abby and she with him. That attraction was bemusing to him since they seemed to be polar opposites. But as he watched them, he realized that they had more in common than two peas in a pod.

And Tony was struck by the exotic Miss David's beauty. He knew the younger man well enough to know that he was going to pursue her if he could only figure out how to introduce himself. While he had more faith in Tony's undercover ability that Tim who was still a novice undercover, Tony was just as fallible as any man including himself.

Now he had spent the day with Hollis and he was already planning to see her again. And he knew that even after he finished repairing her apartment that he would want to see her again. Was he falling into the same romantic trap as his two young agents?

He shook his head. He was too old to be falling into the traps that snared young men's hearts. He had been there already. More times than enough and more times than any man should.

With his age and experience, he knew the best thing he could do would be to tell them to walk away from those women just as he really should walk away from Hollis. Their mission was risky enough without adding another complication.

But could he ask his team to put their lives on hold while they were undercover? He could, but should he? DiNozzo and McGee had both been undercover for a year. They were flesh and blood men with needs. And if they found someone, shouldn't they be given the opportunity to pursue her? To be happy?

Considering all they had sacrificed, he couldn't deny them that.

But not without a word of caution. DiNozzo had mentioned he had talked to McGee but he wouldn't be satisfied without cautioning his boys himself. And at the same time, he would have to make sure to take his own advice to heart.

He glanced at his watch. It was already past eight. He had a sneaking suspicion that he might find the pair in _Quicksilver_ again tonight. And a glass of the excellent bourbon that Abby kept especially for him in return for all the work that he did for her around the place wouldn't hurt either.

Changing his direction, he drove towards the club and parked several blocks away. Sunday nights weren't especially busy since most people had to go to work the next day but there was still a steady stream of people making their way into the club.

He also noticed a few men lurking in the shadows or in an alleyway. They were dressed in rougher clothes than would be appropriate for _Quicksilver_ and they definitely weren't police watching the place. His gut told him that those men worked for someone other than Napolitano, which probably narrowed the list to the Frog.

La Grenouille was the only one brash enough to try to take on Napolitano in this town and he had been expanding his criminal empire as of late. He had heard that a club only a few blocks from here had been snapped up by the Frog just last week.

As he hurried to the club, he filed that information away and made a mental note to tell Abby that she needed to beef up her security. When he reached the door, Simon recognized him right away and even before he could give the password, the door was pulled open.

"Evening Mr. Gibbs," Simon Cade said as he opened the secret door that led down to the club.

"Busy night?" he asked.

"More than your average Sunday," Simon replied. He nodded, unsurprised. With the _Tin Angel_ out of commission, patrons had to go somewhere and evidently a few had come here. "But quiet compared to a Friday night. I'm surprised to see you here so late. The band has already started playing."

"Got held up," he said with a wry smile. He nodded at the large man and started down the stairs into the club. "Thanks, Cade!"

Once he was downstairs, he winced at the loud music that the band was playing. They were playing a raucous piece that he had heard once when he was in New Orleans. To him it was just noise and he couldn't understand how Abby could listen to this music night after night after night and remain sane.

To sooth his eardrums, he hurried over to the bar and caught Burley's eye. The bartender nodded and poured him a drink without a word, not that he could have heard Stan over the loud music anyway. He fished out a few coins and tossed them into the tip jar before he turned and began to scan the club to see if his team had come in tonight.

Thankfully the loud song ended to loud cheers and Miss David took her place on center stage. The band started playing a soulful ballad and after a minute, she joined in. He still didn't care for the style of music that she sang but Miss David made it tolerable.

He looked around the club until he spotted a familiar figure. After McGee had hit it off with Abby last Thursday, he had suspected that Tony and McGee would be back at _Quicksilver_ Friday night. And he wasn't surprised to see them again on Saturday.

DiNozzo had said he was going to try to get Tim to stay home tonight but apparently, he had failed.

Tim was seated with Abby in her booth. They seemed to be deeply involved in their conversation and were oblivious to the sultry song that Miss David was singing at the moment. And aside from Abby and Tim, he and DiNozzo seemed to be the only ones not enraptured by the beautiful foreigner.

Tony was seated at a table by himself within eyesight of Tim. He was hunched over his drink and did not look happy to be there. When Tony rebuffed the advances of a pretty, young flapper who seemed eager to cheer him up, he knew that something was wrong.

"You look like hell, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he sat down next to Tony. Miss David had just finished her song. The club was silent for a moment before the spell was broken by a shrill whistle of approval. Suddenly the club was filled with enthusiastic cheers and clapping as Ziva smiled broadly and took her bows.

"Feel like it too," Tony replied as he glared at the nearest patrons who were shouting their approvals a little too loud for his tastes. "Haven't gotten much sleep in the last few days. I'm beginning to regret bringing McGee here."

He looked over at the booth where Abby and Tim were seated. They were clapping but their attention wasn't focused on the stage.

"He hit it off with Abby," Gibbs said dryly as the band started into the next song, which was livelier than the first.

"Yeah. Never would have guessed it," Tony replied.

"She's a nice girl, Tony," Gibbs replied. He had gotten to know the strange woman over the last two months. Once he got used to her odd appearance, he found a caring, intelligent and hard-working woman. Abby worked as hard as the girls that scrubbed the floors and the boys that worked the loading dock and when needed, she would roll up her sleeves and pitch in no matter what needed to be done. He respected her work ethic and appreciated her business sense. But most of all, he liked Abby as a person. "Dresses different than any other woman I've ever met and has more tattoos that half of the Atlantic Fleet combined but other than that, she's a normal woman. Well mostly."

"No, I meant, McGee finding a girl before me," Tony replied.

He rolled his eyes. "Did you speak to him…"

"Of course I did," Tony replied indignantly. "He's aware of the risks and I'm pretty sure he doesn't care."

He glanced over his shoulder at Tim. From the light in his eyes as he looked at Abby and the way he smiled at her, there was no doubt that Tim was smitten with Abby.

"Yeah, I can see that," he said as he sipped his drink to conceal his concern. Abby loved her club more than anything. If she found out what McGee was trying to do, she could turn him over to Napolitano to save it. He could see that she was just as smitten with McGee as he was with her but he doubted that she would give up her club for a man, especially one she just met. "You'll…"

"Yeah," Tony said cutting him off. "I'll keep an eye on things. And if something has to be done, I'll do it. Tim'll hate me. But I'll do it."

"You wouldn't hurt…"

Tony jolted and looked at him indignantly.

"Of course I wouldn't," Tony retorted in annoyance. "You know me Gibbs. I wouldn't do anything like that."

Holding up his hands in his defense, he said, "I didn't think so DiNozzo. But you've been in Napolitano's network for over a year. I wanted to make sure his bad habits didn't rub off on you."

"No," Tony said softly as he swirled his drink. "I've had to do some questionable things under Napolitano but never that Gibbs. I've only ever acted in self-defense, I swear." He nodded as Tony downed the remainder of his drink. "You know just as well as I do that there are ways to get her out of the way without permanently getting her out of the way."

He nodded.

"Hopefully it doesn't come to that," he offered gently.

"Yeah," Tony said as he glanced at Tim and Abby again.

"So seriously, Gibbs. Did I hear it right? One of _Quicksilver's_ shipments was stolen?"

"That's what I heard," Gibbs replied leaning in and accepting the change of topic. He was glad that DiNozzo had talked to McGee about Abby, but he still wanted to personally warn the young man. "It was taken without much of a fight. Abby's current bootlegger is good but he isn't up to snuff for the job at hand." Tony looked at him expectantly. "La Grenouille is trying to make a move in on this neighborhood. _Quicksilver_ is a prime target."

He looked around. For the fourth night in a row, the club was packed. Since the _Tin Angel_ had been raided, it had fallen from grace, so to speak. Even though the Prohis hadn't found anything – they had been tipped off in enough time to move the liquor – anyone with half a brain wasn't feeling too inclined to test their luck. It was the worst kept secret in Washington that the Prohis had the _Tin Angel_ under surveillance.

Business had picked up at a few other clubs, but _Quicksilver_ seemingly had gained the lion's share. The renovations, the good booze and Ziva David's singing voice had seen to that.

"I saw a few of the Frog's goons loitering around tonight. I think they're just checking out the place," he said.

"They weren't here when we got here but I'm not surprised," Tony said. "They took over a blind tiger about ten blocks up the street. Not sure what the name of it is."

" _Tollbridge Trading_ ," he replied. "Brought the liquor in with shipments of shoes," Gibbs replied. "You got any pull with Napolitano to get more muscle round here?" Gibbs asked.

"Why?" Tony asked. He stared at Tony. The answer should have been obvious. "To protect this club?"

"Ya think DiNozzo?" he asked.

"Other than good bourbon, why would you want to protect this place? You aren't exactly a people person and you are definitely not a fan of jazz and hot music. So, what is it?" Tony asked curiously. Tony looked at him, searching his features. "The last thing we want to do is stir up extra trouble especially with an out-of-towner like Grenouille. And to be honest, if La Grenouille took over that would solve the dame problem."

He frowned. It _would_ solve their problem. McGee wouldn't be able to frequent _Quicksilver_ any longer if the club changed hands and that would guarantee the end of their blossoming relationship.

But that wasn't all. If La Grenouille took over _Quicksilver_ , the chances that Abby would get to keep her club were slim. He wouldn't put it past the Frog to kill a woman especially if he thought she was a threat. If he went through the trouble to take over the club, La Grenouille wouldn't want to risk losing the club back to Napolitano.

"You like Abby," Tony said suddenly. "You want to protect her."

"Got a problem with that?" Gibbs asked, challenging Tony. He did like Abby and while he didn't think that she needed protecting, he was going to do it anyway.

"No," Tony said backing down.

Gibbs looked around. There was another reason why he was so fiercely protective of this place. "I put a lot of work into this place. I'd hate to see it in La Grenouille's hands," Gibbs replied, sipping his drink.

"That's something I can drink to," Tony replied toasting Gibbs. He watched for a moment. Tony had tried to sip his drink only to remember that he had downed the last of it a minute ago. Chuckling, he sipped his drink as Tony pushed his empty glass away in annoyance. "Given that Mr. Gemcity has taken a shine to _Quicksilver_ and its manager, I think I can get some extra muscle to deter Grenouille from elbowing in. Besides, this place has gotten pretty popular since the _Tin Angel_ was raided."

"If La Grenouille was smart, he'd move before Napolitano shored up his security," Gibbs replied.

"Well let's hope not," Tony said. "As much as the law would love to get hold of Gemcity, the Frog wants him just as much. It's easier to muscle in on a town if you know where your competitor's assets are. And Tim knows where the all the clubs are located and he has since the day he started working for Naps." He stared at Tony. That was news to him. "Yeah he shared that morsel on Thursday. I guess I forgot to mention that when we saw each other on Thursday."

"He's decoded the ledgers?" Gibbs asked.

Tony shook his head. "Apparently there's more than one code in the ledgers. He figured out the clubs but everything else is still a mystery. He's going to get the club information on Monday and I'll find a way to get it to you."

He nodded. Gibbs turned and looked at the booth where McGee and Abby had been sitting a few moments ago.

Tony followed his gaze. "Hey," Tony said noticing that they were gone. "Where'd they go?" he asked.

"I don't know, DiNozzo," he replied sternly even as he was irritated with himself. He hadn't seen them leave either. "You're the one who's supposed to be watching him."

"Damn," Tony said as he abandoned his empty drink and stood up. Tony spent the better part of an hour combing the club for McGee but he came up empty. Strolling back into the club after checking with Simon, Tony caught his eye. "Nothing Gibbs. No one saw them disappear."

"Back door?" Gibbs asked.

"Next to the service entrance and it's guarded. He hasn't seen anyone," Tony replied. "The security manager, Cooper, is in the back room but he's ossified. The only thing he's been seeing is the inside of his eyelids."

He frowned. If the Frog made a genuine play for _Quicksilver,_ he'd take it without a fight. Maybe he was making a play. Maybe he already had McGee and if that was the case, he didn't have high hopes for his youngest agent's survival.

Tony sighed. "The only place I haven't checked is the ladies room. Only reason why I haven't," Tony said cutting him off before he could ask, "Is that I don't want to get kicked out."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. Reaching out, he caught a passing waitress' arm. He recognized her as Michelle, the waitress they had on Thursday.

"Hands off," she said sharply as she tried to shake him.

"Hey," he replied just as sharply. "I'm just looking for someone and you can go where we can't." He let go of her. "We want you to check the Ladies room for us.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked relaxing.

"Our friend and your manager," Tony replied.

"Oh," Michelle replied. "I saw them going towards the back stairs about an hour ago."

"Where are the back stairs?" Gibbs demanded.

"In the back," she said defiantly. He glared at her and she wilted. "Near the dressing rooms. There's a secret door like the one to get down here."

"Where do the stairs go?" Tony asked.

"How should I know?" she asked. "I don't deliver drinks up them."

"So how do you know that the stairs go up?" Gibbs demanded.

"Just because I don't use them doesn't mean I don't hear things," she retorted as she hurried towards the bar, eager to get away from the two intense men. "Besides how much lower can you go from here?"

Without another word, they hurried through the club and back stage. After some searching, Tony found the secret door. He drew his gun as Tony opened the door. He nodded and they started up the stairs.

These stairs were dimly lit by bare bulbs so they proceeded cautiously. But it wasn't warranted. After a dozen stairs, they couldn't hear anything, even from the club below.

"Is it just me or are there more stairs than the other set?" Tony asked as he glanced up at Gibbs.

"It's not just you," Gibbs replied looking back at the younger man. "We're going above the factory."

"The roof?" Tony asked. He shook his head. He didn't know. "I saw a fire escape attached to the side of the outside wall," Tony replied. "Maybe they were taken to the roof and down the fire escape? But it would be hell to kidnap someone that way."

"Yeah, well, it may have worked," Gibbs replied as he continued up the stairs until they reached a door. He listened intently and when he didn't hear anything, he tested the door knob. It wasn't locked. He looked at Tony then opened the door, sliding smoothly into the room.

Tony followed him and looked around in surprise. They were in a small living area lit by a single lamp. Ahead of them, they saw a couch and a couple of plush chairs surrounding a coffee table. To the left, they saw a kitchenette and a wooden table with a couple of wooden chairs. They could just see a bathroom to the right and a door straight ahead of them.

A second door was located to the right of the bathroom. From the deadbolt and the chain, it was easy to guess that door was another exit. This was obviously an old set of offices that had been converted into an apartment. It was comfortable, but not elaborate. Only a few people would choose to live above a garment factory and a night club, which limited the pool of people who would come up here.

He had a feeling he knew where Tim was and what he was doing but he was determined to make sure his young agent was all right.

"Boss," Tony hissed quietly. He looked at him plaintively then back at the door to the club. Tony apparently was thinking the same thing.

"DiNozzo," he said pointing to a puddled garment that lay in the middle of the floor. They both recognized it as the coat Tim had been wearing tonight.

Tony checked the coat and found Tim's pistol, still in its shoulder holster. He stepped around Tony and made his way to the closed door. Tony reluctantly joined him.

They listened to the door for a moment and heard the unmistakable sounds of moans and heavy breathing and the slight squeak of a mattress.

Suddenly, he grinned and led the way back to the stairs to the club. After Tony had pulled the door shut, he glanced at his watch. Tim and Abby had been missing for over an hour. Replacing his pistol, he smiled wryly and said, "McGee is doing just fine, Tony."

"He might be," Tony replied as they walked down the stairs. "But I may be scarred for life. I didn't really need to hear McGee and Abby pitching woo, you know?"

Gibbs paused and looked at him. "Jealous, DiNozzo?" he asked.

"Jealous?" Tony asked incredulously. "Why would I be jealous of McGee?" Gibbs just looked at him. "Ok I see your point. Abby is gorgeous which makes McGee a lucky guy but I'm not jealous. I'm happy for him. He could use the stress relief. But I warned him about getting dizzy with this girl and he clearly ignored every word."

He stepped out of the secret stairwell and waited for Tony to shut the door. "Like you and Miss David?" he asked.

Tony blinked and looked at him. "Me and Miss David? We've only met briefly when Abby introduced her to us. I haven't said more than 'hello' to her."

"You like her," Gibbs said. It was a statement.

"Well yeah, she's beautiful. Who isn't attracted to her?"

"I saw the way she looked at you," Gibbs said as they started to walk towards the club. Tony couldn't stop the smile that crossed his lips. "I'm not telling you to not get involved," he said as they caught sight of Miss David as she exited her dressing room for her second set.

Ziva saw him and smiled brightly at Tony. Tony returned the smile and followed her with his eyes as she stepped onto the stage to thunderous applause. He watched as Tony stared at the point where she had disappeared. He got the feeling that if he could Tony would stand in that place like a lovesick teenager until Miss David returned.

With a shake of his head, he reached out and smacked Tony upside the head.

Wincing, Tony turned to look at him. "Hey! What was that for?" he asked.

"Take a little of your own advice DiNozzo," Gibbs replied. "I need at least one of you two to have a clear head. Usually that's McGee but that ship has sailed."

Tony sobered. "Noted, Gibbs."

They returned to the club and got another drink while they waited for the happy couple to return, snagging a table when one opened up. Tim and Abby returned nearly an hour later and returned to their booth which was quickly emptied upon Abby's return.

He examined the pair and noted that both looked very content as well they should. Tony caught a waitress and ordered a drink to be sent to Tim along with a message which he hastily scribbled on a receipt from his wallet.

Gibbs watched as the waitress set the drink down and handed over the message just as Miss David finished one of her best songs to loud cheers and applause. Tim looked around the club until he caught sight of Tony. He grinned lopsidedly as he looked at Abby. If he wasn't mistaken, it seemed to be a mix of embarrassment and pride.

"What did you say to him?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh," Tony said as the applause died down. "I just congratulated him." Gibbs shook his head and smiled before taking a sip from his drink.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Disclaimer, while this story has elements of 'Tiva' and 'McAbby' and whatever you'd want to call the Gibbs and Hollis Mann pairing, I wouldn't consider this a 'Tiva' or 'McAbby' story. As I noted to start, I tried to mirror the relationships from the show so keep that in mind as the story continues. The main focus is the attempt to take down Napolitano's criminal empire and that story is going to heat up very quickly in the coming chapters.


	12. Chapter 11 - Rearranging Assets

**Chapter 11 – Rearranging Assets**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

Despite his extremely late nights over the past weekend, Tim was in a good mood even as he worked through the tedious task of balancing the Monday books. He had met an interesting woman and they had hit it off. Then last night… last night had been amazing.

He smiled to himself as he paused in his calculations.

He had never been one to jump into bed with a woman. Growing up as the son of a navy officer, he had been raised to be a gentleman. Respect and honor had been drilled into him for as long as he could remember. Granted, his father had also preached that he ought to wait until marriage for intimate relations with a woman, but he wasn't such a bluenose. Apparently, that was another one of his father's lessons that hadn't stuck.

He couldn't put a finger on what it was exactly. He and Abby had just connected. It was like an electric spark between them. And since he met her on Thursday night, he had been ridiculously happy.

The only thing that tamped his good mood was that he wouldn't see Abby tonight because _Quicksilver_ was closed on Mondays.

But then he realized that he _could_ see her tonight. She had given him the number to her apartment. He would wait and call her after lunch to make sure he didn't wake her though. Maybe she'd like to go to dinner with him. He even had a great little Spanish restaurant in mind.

"Gemcity," a voice said drawing him from his thoughts.

"Yes, Mr. Napolitano," he said as he stood. Naps was standing in his doorway and looked drawn and tired.

"Don't stand on my account," he said as he entered Tim's office. Naps took a moment to shut the door to the hallway before he strolled in and looked around. "You did the place up nice," Naps said as he eyed a detailed model sailing ship with the name _Bonhomme Richard_ painted on her hull which he had ensconced on the book case and then several paintings of the beach, which were hanging on his walls. All in all, the office was now decorated rather nicely compared to how he had found it on his first day.

He might not have joined the navy like his father but the sea was engrained in his psyche. Despite his well-known issues with seasickness, he loved the ocean. Having lived near an ocean throughout his childhood, the smells and the sounds were comforting to him. Having images of the sea in his office was the closest he could get for now.

"What can I do for you sir?" he asked.

Jimmy chuckled dryly. "You don't have to 'sir' me," Jimmy said as he sat down.

He smiled wryly. "Sorry. Habits," he said as he retook his seat.

Jimmy nodded. "It's going to be an interesting next couple of days. I need you to flex that brain of yours to work out some creative accounting."

"This is about the _Tin Angel_ ," Tim said unnecessarily.

"Of course. It was bad enough they chose to raid her but the law has had their eyeballs on her since Thursday night. It hasn't been safe to reopen. I've been talking with several associates trying to determine how my social club drew the ire of the Prohibition Unit and how I can get them to leave my club alone," Napolitano replied as he pulled a few sheets of paper and handed them to Tim. "Several more payments that need to be worked out."

Tim opened the sheets and glanced over them. Of course, they were in code but he recognized some as payments for information, even if he didn't know the name that went with the payment. All the names in the book were in code and he could tell that there was a pattern. He just didn't know what it was. If he had one name to start with, he felt like he could start to crack it.

"I'll add this to the books right away," he said with a nod.

"Good," Jimmy said. "So, I hear you had a good weekend."

He nodded, unsurprised that Jimmy had heard about his weekend with Miss Sciuto. Any and all of Jimmy's associates could potentially relay information back to him, which made his precarious position all the more dangerous.

Jimmy grinned but then grew serious. "Personally, I'm glad someone did and I'm glad you weren't in the _Tin Angel_ Thursday night."

It wasn't a statement so much as it was a question. Jimmy wanted to know why they hadn't been in the _Tin Angel_ Thursday night. Since he had been hired, he and Tony had exclusively patronized the _Tin Angel_ because it was the best club in town. _Quicksilver_ on the other hand hadn't been known for anything.

"Tony, my body guard, heard that the singer at _Quicksilver_ was something to see so we decided to see her act instead of heading to the _Tin Angel_."

"Is she?" Jimmy asked with the hint of a smile. "Something to see?"

"I don't know," he replied bluntly. "As I'm sure you've heard; I was a bit preoccupied with the club's manager."

Jimmy laughed boisterously. "I did hear that. Abby Sciuto. She's an odd bird and not one I'd expect you to go after." Tim shrugged. "But to each his own. Good for you, Tim."

"Speaking of _Quicksilver_ ," Tim said changing the topic away from his personal life. "Some of La Grenouille's men had eyeballs on the place last night."

"The Frog? Really?" Naps asked surprised. "That's the first I've heard of this."

"Tony noticed the goons," he replied. That wasn't entirely true. Gibbs had noticed the goons but it made more sense to give the credit to his bodyguard than to a handyman. "And Abby told me one of her shipments of product was stolen last week. They were outnumbered, outclassed and the shipment was taken without a fight."

"Really?" Naps asked raising an eyebrow. "Clearly the head of security isn't doing his job if his bootlegger let the Frog's men walk off with a shipment without a fight."

"Your head of security at _Quicksilver,_ Monroe Cooper, is an incompetent washed up detective. He's also a drunkard," Tim replied bluntly. "He couldn't spot a barn if he was standing in front of it." Jimmy was looking at him intently but he didn't interrupt. " _Quicksilver's_ bootlegger is good but he's not up to running liquor for a first rate. Now I think that up until recently, this wasn't a problem. Grenouille wasn't interested in a hole like _Adam's Tavern_ but Abby has made a lot of improvements and Miss David is drawing the crowds. Even when she isn't singing, Abby has booked some of the best hot music in town. _Quicksilver_ , under Abby's management, is one of the hottest clubs right now and that's gotten the Frog's attention."

"That's what I've been hearing," Jimmy said.

"He's making a play for the neighborhood," Tim said. "He acquired a blind tiger just up the street. It gives him a foothold and could be a stepping stone to take _Quicksilver."_

"So, La Grenouille has his eyes on my club," Jimmy said. "You got any suggestions?"

Tim nodded. This was stretching things a bit, but he had put a lot of thought into how this might work. Now he just needed to see if it would. "I've heard that Blue McGinty knows his oats."

"DiNozzo used to work with him," Jimmy said. "He runs the site security for the _Tin Angel_."

"Which really won't need much security these days," Tim replied. Jimmy frowned. "The Prohis may not have found anything illegal at the _Tin Angel_ , but it's going to be a while before your customers are going to come back even if the law leave off their surveillance." Jimmy's frown deepened. "Even if you served liquor, people don't want to risk getting pinched when there are plenty of other options in town. We need to minimize your losses at the _Tin Angel_ by downsizing operations there and boosting them where we can stand to gain ground. Why spend money at a place no one's going?"

Naps looked at him, intrigued. "I'm listening," Napolitano said.

"So, if people aren't going to the _Tin Angel_ , they're going to go elsewhere. We need to make sure that they pick one of your clubs and right now _Quicksilver_ could be that next great club if you play your cards right. Abby's brought this place back to life," he said. "It's gotten to be a popular place by word of mouth. She runs a tight ship and has made a tidy profit in spite of all the money she put out to renovate the club. Once she pays off her debts, _Quicksilver_ will be a moneymaker. With some better security and some advertising, I think you won't even miss the _Tin Angel's_ profits."

"You just want me to shift resources to your girlfriend's club," Naps stated.

"No," he said earnestly as he pulled up a sheet of paper and pointed to some notes he had made this morning. "No, I have other suggestions too. _Tango Eight_ is a good dance hall but the house band is lousy. Send them the _Tin Angel's_ band and I think you'll see business pick up in no time. _Tease_ could use a better bartender and _Air Tropica_ could use an accountant that's capable of basic math. Promote the assistant accountant from the _Tin Angel_. Renny Grant is more than capable enough to run her books."

Jimmy picked up his notes and scanned them. He had made a list of positions from the _Tin Angel_ and who he thought had to stay and who could be utilized elsewhere. Then he had made detailed notes and sketches of each club's earnings. Beside that he had notes about the type of club and what might improve their earnings.

"Where'd you get all this information about my clubs?" Napolitano asked as he paged through his notes.

He shrugged. "DiNozzo mostly. He worked at the _Tin Angel_ before he was my shadow. And he worked at _Tango Eight_ for a while before that. He's also got friends among your bootleggers so he hears things."

"His former coworkers," Napolitano mused.

"Yeah," he nodded. He smiled wryly. "He wasn't too happy when I kept him up most of the night grilling him for this information."

"I can't imagine he would be." Napolitano looked at his notes then at him. Suddenly he smiled. "You've got a shrewd head for business, Tim, my boy."

He looked down at the books and replied, "Comes with the territory, Mr. Napolitano. You crunch enough numbers and eventually you learn a trick or two."

"Well trick or no, I think you've got the right idea. I'll get Blue onto _Quicksilver's_ security today. Last thing I want is for that lousy Frenchman to take one of my clubs, let alone a good one," Jimmy said. "Anything else?"

"Alex Tanner," Tim replied quickly. "DiNozzo worked with him when he was running the _Tin Angel's_ bootlegging operation. He thinks that Tanner would help keep Miss Sciuto's supply lines safe. Tony says he's trustworthy and discrete."

Jimmy nodded. "Done. And I'll look into your suggestions here. I'll be back if I have any questions."

Tim nodded. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," he said.

Miss Stegman opened the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt Mr. Gemcity." He nodded. "Mr. Napolitano. A Mr. Fornell is here to see you. He says he can't stay for more than a few minutes," Miss Stegman said.

Napolitano nodded. "Show him in, Ms. Stegman," Jimmy said as he left for his office, closing the door between their offices as he left. He returned to his work but looked up when Fornell passed by the door to the hallway, which Miss Stegman had left cracked open. Fortunately, Fornell hadn't looked into his office. The man was all business as he bee-lined towards Jimmy's office.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Fornell was a cop. He might even be in the Prohibition Unit or the Bureau of Investigation. Suddenly Tim blinked in realization. Fornell might be the mole.

Getting up, Tim shut the outer door. Surreptitiously, he made his way over to his filing cabinet and began to sort through the files on the pretense that he was looking for legal places to liquidate the _Tin Angel's_ assets. At least that's what he would say if Naps would suddenly enter his office.

"You demanded to see me, Napolitano," Fornell said, not bothering to keep his voice down. He was clearly irritated.

"Yeah," Naps replied. "You heard about the _Tin Angel_."

"Of course I did," Fornell replied. "Everyone at the Prohibition Unit is pissed that they couldn't get you for something." Tim blinked. Fornell _was_ a Prohi.

"No thanks to you Fornell," Naps said hotly. "I find it awfully convenient that you weren't around Thursday."

"I was escorting a suspect in a kidnapping case to Philadelphia," Fornell replied coolly. His mind whirled. If Fornell was dealing with a kidnapper, he probably wasn't a Prohi then. Which made Fornell a Bureau of Investigation Agent. "I didn't get back until Friday morning. And I didn't know about the raid until I got back. And before you ask, I didn't hear about it before hand. They kept a tight lid on this one."

"As I said, awfully convenient," Napolitano replied. "I asked you here so you could remind me why I pay you."

Tim blinked in surprise. Fornell was on the books. If they talked a price, he might be able to crack the code.

"First of all, let's get one thing straight," Fornell said hotly. "You didn't ask me here. You demanded that I come here, which is a huge risk on my part."

"What you think that someone is watching the front door?" Napolitano asked.

"It's not impossible," Fornell retorted. There was a moment of stark silence before Fornell continued. "Secondly, I don't help you out because of the money you 'pay' me," Fornell retorted derisively. Tim wondered why he emphasized the word 'pay' but without seeing what was going on, he could only speculate. "And you know that. I'm not going to go out of my way to find you information at the risk of my job."

"Perhaps you need a reminder of how you got into this mess, Fornell," Napolitano said. "You volunteered."

"I know that," replied Fornell so softly that Tim barely heard him. "But you know well enough that five dollars a week doesn't cover the interest you're charging and the 'bonuses' you give me for big information isn't worth the risk, Napolitano. If I'm thrown in jail, I'll never work off Diane's debt. Then you'll be left with a woman who can't pay you back and no inside information so don't go threatening me. You got your information in time. The Prohis didn't find anything illegal at your property."

"Threatening?" Napolitano asked. Tim could tell that he was losing this battle and was now trying to turn things in his favor once again. "I'm not threatening you, Fornell."

"Sure sounded like it to me," Fornell muttered.

"I was reminding you," Napolitano said jovially. "And this is a friendly reminder that the better the information, the more money you get. Remember that tip about the raid at the docks a few months ago? I took a hundred dollars off your wife's debt for that."

"Ex-wife," Fornell replied bitterly. "And that was only a fraction of what you made on that liquor."

"True," Napolitano replied. "You bring me the good stuff and I promise I'll be more generous, Fornell."

Tim could tell the conversation was winding down, so he returned to his desk. He had a lot of work to do. It was going to take time to rearrange the _Tin Angel's_ assets and now he had a research project. He might have enough information to try to track down Fornell in the books. If he was lucky, he would be able to use this information to crack the code.

He looked up as he heard footsteps pass by his office. Fornell had left.

If Fornell was the mole, he was certainly a reluctant one. It sounded like Fornell's ex-wife had gotten into some financial troubles with Napolitano and Fornell had stepped in to help her out. Now Napolitano was using Fornell for his own purposes. If that was the case, it certainly explained Fornell's attitude when they first met two months ago.

All the same, he wondered why Fornell would stick his neck out for his ex-wife. He had a feeling there was still a lot more to this story than he knew.

But if Fornell was leaking information to Napolitano, it didn't matter if he was doing it to protect his ex. They still had to put a stop to it.

Hopefully they could manage it without any innocent people paying the price in the process.

He frowned as he picked up his pencil. Why did he have a feeling that wasn't going to be the case?


	13. Chapter 12 - Magnetism

**Chapter 12 – Magnetism**

 _Tony DiNozzo_

* * *

"Come on McGee," Tony said plaintively. "It's Friday and you've been holed up either at work or here all week. You need to get out. _I_ need to get out."

"I'm really close to cracking this Tony," Tim muttered as he looked over his makeshift copy of the books which Tim had copied one page at a time and roughly bound together. He compared something from the books to several sheets of paper that were scattered about their dining room table.

Tony sighed. "You've been really close to cracking that code for four days now. Give it a break. You're working too hard. Sixteen-hour days at the office and up half the night working on that mess. It's melting your brain."

Something in his voice caught his partner's attention. He didn't want to just go out have a drink and maybe dance with some pretty girls; he was genuinely concerned about his friend's sanity. It seemed like Tim was trying to unravel Napolitano's network which he had built up over years in just a few days. As much as he would like this case to be over, he knew that wasn't going to be a quick end even if Tim cracked the code tonight.

Tim finally looked up at him. His partner looked numb and exhausted. Suddenly Tim slumped in defeat. "You're right," Tim replied as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe a break would help."

"Damn straight it would," Tony said as Tim began to gather up the papers. "I've seen you do this before. You get so wrapped up in the details that you lose sight of the big picture."

Tim paused and sighed. "I know. It's a bad habit."

"It is," he agreed. "And what you need is a break. It'll help the pieces come together. Besides, you can see Abby. That'll put you back in the right frame of mind. Let's go."

He watched as Tim perked up at the thought of seeing Abby. McGee had talked a lot about her this past week but they hadn't been back to _Quicksilver_ since Sunday. Tim had put in extra time as he helped to redistribute the _Tin Angel's_ assets. Then even after he got home, he stayed up to the wee hours of the night trying to crack the ledger's code. It had left him exhausted and unable to muster the energy to spend a few hours out or even to call her – Tim had told him that he didn't want to sound exhausted when he called her.

But damn, it was Friday and he needed to get out of their apartment! He had been prepared to drag McGee out to _Quicksilver_ if need be. Luckily it wasn't going to come down to that.

Tim quickly returned the makeshift ledgers to his room and hid them wherever he hid them when he wasn't working on them. He didn't know where Tim put them and he didn't care to find out. Those papers had the potential to get them both killed if someone should find them. He didn't doubt that Napolitano would have their apartment searched if he thought that Tim was doing something untrustworthy.

He was already dressed to go out so he was forced to wait impatiently while Tim cleaned up and got ready. They left almost thirty minutes later and reached the club in seemingly no time at all thanks to his slightly aggressive driving.

As they made their way towards the club, Tim jolted.

"What?" he asked, instantly on guard.

"It's ok, Tony," he said. "I just see someone I recognize." Before he could stop Tim, his partner had hurried ahead to a shadowed doorway within eyesight of the club entrance. He hurried to catch up and surreptitiously put his hand near to his weapon, just in case. "Jimmy? Jimmy Palmer?" Tim asked causing the man to jump.

"Oh jeez!" Jimmy said as he turned to face Tim. "Tim! You scared me," Jimmy said.

"I noticed," Tim said as they eased into the shadows as several couples hastily made their way to the door, knocked and gave the password to be admitted into the club. "Palmer, what are you doing here?" Tim asked.

Jimmy looked abashed for a moment before he stood up to Tim.

"I should ask the same thing, Tim," Jimmy said. Tim looked at him incredulously. "Ok, so I know you have more of a reason to be here than me. But I met someone and she's a waitress here. I wanted to come by and see her."

Tony looked at Tim concerned. He couldn't help wondering what exactly this kid knew about Tim. Tim shook his head and Tony dropped it knowing that Tim would explain later. But when Tim hadn't introduced them, he cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Tony this is Jimmy Palmer. Jimmy this is Tony DiNozzo," Tim said introducing them.

"Nice to meet you," Jimmy said with a smile as they shook hands.

"Yeah," he replied skeptically. Maybe he was too paranoid but he found himself eyeing Jimmy suspiciously, trying to gauge whether he was a threat or not. Jimmy was tall, though not taller than himself or Tim, and had a thin build. He didn't seem like a threat but he wasn't about to let his guard down around Tim. Like Tim, Jimmy wore circular spectacles and had neatly cut, slightly curly, light brown hair. Jimmy was slimmer than his partner and neatly dressed in a suit that was little more formal than the average _Quicksilver_ patron.

He watched as Tim looked at Jimmy then at the club door. He nearly laughed at the reproachful, almost motherly, expression on Tim's face.

Jimmy saw Tim's expression too. "What? I didn't meet her here! I swear," Jimmy said. "We met at the pharmacy."

"The pharmacy?" Tony asked incredulously.

"The pharmacy," Jimmy said sincerely. He looked at the kid. The expression on Jimmy's face was of pure innocence. He wasn't lying. "We reached for the last tube of toothpaste at the same time. Then we started talking. We really hit it off and I worked up the nerve to ask her out. I asked her to dinner but she said she was working tonight and told me I should stop by."

"It's a match made in heaven, McGee," Tony said sarcastically. "Love over toothpaste."

Their conversation was cut short as they saw an opportunity to enter the club. They hurried over to the door and knocked. Four quick knocks followed by two hand slaps and a final sharp knock. The slot opened to reveal a pair of eyes.

"Wet birds don't fly at night," he said. The slot slid shut and the door opened to reveal a very large bouncer. They hurried inside and Cade shut and locked the door.

"Welcome to _Quicksilver,_ " Cade said as he opened the secret door for them.

"Thanks," he said as they started down the stairs.

"Seems like a really complicated way to get into a club," Jimmy said as they walked.

Tim laughed. "It's a pun, Jimmy. The knocking is Morse code for the letters H and G," Tim said. Jimmy shook his head. "The chemical symbol for mercury is Hg," Tim explained.

" _Quicksilver,"_ Jimmy said. "Funny."

"Abby," Tim explained. "She's the club's manager. She has a degree in chemistry."

"That explains it," Jimmy said as they descended the stairs into _Quicksilver_ , which was playing host to a raucous jazz band at the moment. People were up on their feet, dancing and having a good time.

Out of habit, Tony scanned the club but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Abby's normal booth was occupied by an unknown group of people and the strange woman wasn't anywhere to be seen.

He glanced at Tim and noted his disappointment. Tony shrugged as they took an open table. A waitress stopped by and took their orders. After she had gone, the conversation continued.

"I assume that Doctor Mallard doesn't know about this," Tim said indicating the club.

"No," Jimmy replied. "You won't tell him? I don't want to be fired."

"I won't tell him," Tim replied. Tony looked at Tim for an explanation. "Jimmy is the city medical examiner's assistant," he replied.

"You work with dead people?" Tony asked. Jimmy nodded. "So, what does that make you? An autopsy gremlin?"

Jimmy frowned and opened his mouth to retort but Tim cut him off.

"We met at _Sugar Street_ and I helped him with a financial issue a while back," Tim said firmly. "He and my former employer had a misunderstanding about a bar tab."

Jimmy avoided Tim's reproachful gaze and if he wasn't mistaken, the young man was blushing with embarrassment.

He looked at Tim for an explanation.

"Jimmy ran up a tab and wasn't paying it back fast enough…"

"How could I?" Jimmy interjected. "He charged so much interest, I couldn't pay it down. Not on my salary."

"You were at an illegal club," Tony said incredulously. "Did you really think they'd play fair?" Jimmy nodded leaving him speechless. "The whole point of letting you have a tab was to shake you down for even more money in the long run."

"I know that _now,_ " Jimmy muttered.

"It was one of Taylor's favorite rackets," Tim explained. "You weren't the only one he used that tactic on." Jimmy frowned. Apparently, that information didn't make him feel better. "Although, you got in deeper than most."

"Don't I know it," Jimmy muttered.

"When Jimmy was slow to repay his debt, Taylor had some of his goons…" Tim paused as he searched for the right words. "Encourage Jimmy to pay up or else."

"I'm guessing that their encouragement was of the physical variety," he said.

"You wouldn't be wrong," Tim replied. "They took him out back and worked him over pretty good. Jimmy was lucky that I found him. He was in a bad state."

Jimmy ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "Tim took me to Doctor Mallard's place and he took care of me. Then Tim helped me out even more."

He looked at Tim for an explanation. "Taylor's time frame was a little unreasonable so I corrected the books until Jimmy could repay the money he owed."

"You made it seem like Jimmy had repaid his debt?" he asked.

Tim nodded. "It also eliminated Taylor's unreasonable interest rate, which gave Jimmy more time to repay what he owed."

"Believe me, Tim, I am so grateful that you helped me out," Jimmy said. "I definitely wouldn't be here without your help. Dr. Mallard agrees. He actually forbade me from setting foot into an illegal club ever again," Jimmy finished. "He told me that if I did, he would fire me."

"He was concerned that Mr. Taylor was going to put Jimmy on one of the Doctor's tables, which he was about to do," Tim said meaningfully. "Until I fixed things. You better not be falling into your old ways again Jimmy."

"I'm not!" he said looking the picture of honesty. Seeing Jimmy made Tony realize how worldly Tim really was, which wasn't saying much. This kid was pure mother's milk. "I swear, Tim. I never open a tab any more. I only drink what I can pay for." The waitress returned with their drinks. Jimmy smiled as he paid for his. Well he was mostly pure mother's milk. He was breaking the law by going to illegal clubs and drinking illegal alcohol.

"Good because Napolitano isn't as dumb as Taylor and he isn't as forgiving either," Tim warned as he sipped his drink.

"You're working for Napolitano now?" Jimmy asked but Tim didn't answer. "Ok, you won't say. Fair enough."

"I wonder where the mistress of the lounge is?" Tony asked as he looked around the dark club. It was a blatant change in topic but Tim seemed grateful. From the look on his face, Tim was wondering where Abby was as well.

"Which one? Abby? Or Miss David?" Tim asked with a smile as he turned around to look at his friend. "I've noticed that you've taken a shine to Miss David. You going to ask her out?"

"I don't know what you mean," Tony said innocently, but he knew Tim knew him too well to be fooled. He _did_ want to ask her out. But Gibbs' warning about keeping a clear head still resonated.

He _was_ taking his job seriously. Probably more seriously than he had ever taken any other job before. Tim's life was in his hands right now and Gibbs was right. One of them had to keep a clear head and that made him hesitant to get involved with a woman while under cover. Their position was dangerous enough as it was even without adding a dame to the mix.

Unfortunately, his younger partner hadn't had the same hesitations. He just hoped it didn't blow up in McGee's face. He liked seeing his partner so happy.

"I've heard good things about Miss David but I've never seen her perform. Is she as good as they say?" Jimmy asked.

"Better." Suddenly he spotted Abby. "Oh, there she is, McGee." Abby changed direction when she saw them but her expression was concerning. "But Abby doesn't look happy to see you."

Tim turned around smiled when he saw her. He stood and opened his mouth to say hello but she slapped him, hard, across the face. Startled, Tim put his hand to his stinging cheek as Tony looked between the two of them. Tim grabbed his cheek and looked at Abby in confusion while Abby glared bullets at him.

"We'll just leave you two alone. Come on Jimmy," he said awkwardly excusing himself. He and Jimmy picked up their drinks and settled at the next table. He didn't want to be in the middle of an argument between them but he wasn't above eavesdropping either.

"What was that for?" Tim asked both angry and hurt as he pulled her down to the table.

Abby shook him off and glared at him. "Did it mean nothing to you?" Tony looked down at his drink. Oh boy. His Probie had landed in the thick of it this time.

"Did what mean nothing to me?" Tim asked confused.

"You know," she said dropping her voice. "It." She pointed upwards toward her apartment. Jimmy's eyes widened so Tony smacked him in the arm. He was trying to eavesdrop surreptitiously and he couldn't do that with the kid gawking.

Jimmy opened his mouth to object but one look silenced Jimmy. After that, the young man turned away and watched the people dancing.

Tony surreptitiously watched as Tim closed his eyes and shook his head in realization. "Of course it did," he said seriously. "Last weekend was the best weekend I've had in ages and not just because of… _it_. You are the most interesting woman I've ever met and one of the smartest people I've ever met. You're strong, beautiful and _that_ ," he said looking upward, "was amazing."

"But when you get sex, you just up and disappear," she said, hurt.

Tony noted that she seemed more disappointed than upset. He didn't think that Abby was easy, but she was definitely a modern woman who wasn't afraid to get a wiggle on if she liked someone enough. And technically, she and McGee had been on their fourth date or maybe their fifth or sixth when you add up all the time they spent together over those four days. So, it wasn't like she and McGee had hopped into bed at first blush.

He knew that wasn't McGee's style. He was too much of a gentleman and too straight laced to go for sex straight from the start. But Abby didn't know Tim like he knew him.

Tony watched as McGee put the pieces together. Suddenly Tim realized what was going on and what he had done wrong, even if unintentionally. "You're mad because I haven't been to see you all week?" he asked. "Because I haven't called you?"

"Well yeah!" she said. "I'm not that kind of girl Tim!

"I didn't think you were," Tim replied quickly. "I'm not one of those guys either!"

She glared at him. "I didn't think you were either until you didn't call," she said crossing her arms. "Turns out I was wrong," she said clearly disappointed. "I know we'd only known each other a few days but I'd thought you were different. We connected and it was something special. Which is why I…" She cut herself off. "I don't just jump into bed with any guy, you know," she said angrily. She looked hurt. "But when I didn't hear a peep from you all week, I realized I was all wrong about you."

"Jeez, Abs," Tim said running his hand through his hair. "With the _Tin Angel_ going under, I've been working to rearrange its assets, many of which I've directed here by the way," he said pointedly. "It isn't an easy job to make sure money, employees and illegal goods are rearranged so that Jimmy's business doesn't suffer. Then on top of that we've got to make sure that the Feds don't get wind of it. I've been working my fingers to the nubs all week."

"You directed assets here?" she asked, deflating. He watched as she put the pieces together with her eyes.

"Yeah," Tim replied with one of his crooked smiles. "The increased security and Blue McGinty taking over for that drunk, Monroe Cooper. The extra money Napolitano sent your way for the boiler. The _Tin Angel's_ best liquor and Alex Tanner as your new bootlegger."

As he spoke, Tony watched her features soften. "I was wondering why Blue showed up Monday afternoon to take over my security," she said softly. "Alex too?"

Tim nodded. "La Grenouille was the one that took your shipment last week. He has been eying up the place," Tim said pushing now that he had the advantage. "If he took over, God knows what would have happened to you. Even if you managed to keep the club, I wouldn't be able to see you again. I can only frequent Mr. Napolitano's clubs."

"Oh, Tim," she said melting. Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. Surprised but not upset, Tim returned the kiss whole-heartedly.

When she broke it off, Tim was grinning like a drunken fool. Suddenly Abby smacked him on the chest.

"Hey! What was _that_ for?" he asked confused as he rubbed his chest.

"You could have called or something," she said crossing her arms over her chest. This time she seemed more annoyed than angry.

"Yes," Tim conceded. "I should have called and for that I apologize. I promise I will make it up to you."

"Really?" she asked mischievously. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Tim swallowed and glanced at Tony. He looked like a man who knew he was walking into a lion's den or perhaps in this case, a lioness' den. He shook his head. McGee was on his own with this one. He motioned with his hand to tell his friend as much. Tim swallowed hard and turned back to Abby. "Any way you can think of."

"I can think of a lot of ways," she said suggestively. "You might want to reconsider that offer."

"Well," Tim said pausing to think for a moment before he agreed. Tony had plenty of guesses what Abby could have in mind. Of course, it was all speculation, however. She _was_ a strange woman. But apparently Tim decided that it was worth the risk because she was worth the risk. "I want you to know that I am really sorry for not calling you this week. Plus, if I'm right, I have a feeling that I might just enjoy what you have in mind."

Suddenly she grinned and looked toward the door backstage. Tony watched as Tim followed her gaze as it trailed upwards towards her apartment. Tim smiled, took his drink, downed it in one long swallow, and followed her. Tony rolled his eyes and took a deep draught of his drink as Tim pass them buy.

"What?" Jimmy asked as he watched them disappear backstage. "What's going on? Where's Tim going?"

"Somewhere I'm not following again," he said to Jimmy's confusion. He glared at Jimmy to keep him from asking for an explanation.

"Did you know," Jimmy said to break the awkward silence. "That Jazz is considered to be America's classical music?" Jimmy asked trying to make small talk. "It's a combination of French and African music and brass-band marches that became popular in New Orleans before spreading."

"Fascinating," he said dryly. Jimmy smiled broadly and nodded. He sighed as he realized that he was probably stuck with Palmer until Tim returned. "I need another drink," he said sourly.


	14. Chapter 13 - Mistaken Identity

**Chapter 13 – Mistaken Identity**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't really care. He had wanted to stay in Abby's apartment but unfortunately, Abby couldn't shirk her duties to her club. She had work to do, people to manage and problems to solve.

They returned to the club just in time for Miss David's second performance. He glanced around the room and found Tony still sitting with Jimmy. He waved his friend over, but Tony looked reluctantly between him and Abby. Then Jimmy said something which apparently annoyed Tony. His partner hastily stood and made his way over to their booth. Jimmy followed when he waved at the young man.

"You don't mind if we join you?" Tony asked as they took a seat.

"Not at all," Abby said as they caught Michelle as she walked by. They placed their drink orders and she hurried off. He noticed that Jimmy smiled broadly at her when he ordered his drink and that Michelle smiled in return. Michelle must be the mysterious waitress he had met over toothpaste. "Thanks Miss Lee."

"Apologies were accepted, I see," Tony said causing him to blush.

"Absolutely," Abby grinned. "And Tim graciously accepted my apology for slapping him."

"I'm sure," Tony replied dryly.

"Not _that_ kind of apology," Abby said. "I mean there was that kind of apology." Tony rolled his eyes. Abby looked at him, embarrassed by her actions. "But I meant a real one too. I don't know what came over me," Abby said. "But Tim did promise to call me and he never did. I was mostly mad at myself for trusting someone I had only just met."

"Once you get to know Tim," Tony said. "You'll realized that he's not that kind of guy." Abby nodded. "When he wasn't working, he was telling me how great a time he had last week and how much he was looking forward to seeing you again."

"So why _didn't_ you call?" Abby asked as she turned to look at him.

"He was working so much," Tony said before he could reply. "That he was half-exhausted all week. He didn't want to sound tired or uninterested in you. Tim wanted to make a good impression 'cause he likes you."

Abby looked at him fondly. "That's very sweet of you Tim," Abby said as she kissed his cheek. He looked at Tony who winked at him. Considering his partner had warned him not to get dizzy with Abby, it was surprising that Tony was helping his relationship with Abby. "I didn't realize all the work Tim would have to do because of the _Tin Angel_ ," Abby continued, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm in my own little world down in this basement. It's easy to forget about everything else."

"I did promise to call," Tim said. "And I _should_ have called. I won't make the same mistake twice. Hopefully things won't be so crazy now."

They enjoyed their drink as they watched Miss David perform and he was suitably impressed. She was a good singer and a great performer. She had the audience in the palm of her hand for her whole set.

After Ziva finished singing, Gibbs slid into their booth just as Abby had excused herself to see to her club.

"Hey Gibbs," Abby said cheerily pausing. "I didn't think you'd be in tonight."

"I thought you might want to know that some of the Frog's goons are hanging around outside," Gibbs said getting straight to the point. "I counted at least two standing in the open and I found at least four more hiding in an alley down the street and another couple in a car parked around the corner."

"The Frog?" Abby asked startled. "You mean, La Grenouille?" Gibbs nodded.

"I spoke with Blue while you two were occupied," Tony said pointing between him and Abby. Gibbs looked at him and he felt himself flush slightly under the steely blue gaze as Gibbs looked at him reproachfully. Why did he always feel like he was getting a dressing down from his father when Gibbs looked at him like that? Thankfully Tony continued, distracting Gibbs. "And he told me all about the changes he made over the last week. The Frog apparently wasn't intimidated by the increased security," Tony said looking at Gibbs.

"Evidently not," Gibbs replied as Michelle stopped by to take his order. "I mentioned it to Blue on the way in."

"You two know Blue?" Abby asked as she looked from Gibbs to Tony.

"I know him from the _Tin Angel_ ," Tony replied quickly. "I worked there for a while before my latest job," Tony said as he glanced from Tim to Jimmy. He shook his head lightly and both Abby and Gibbs got the message. "Gibbs, have you met Jimmy Palmer here? He's McGee's friend."

"No," Gibbs said as he eyed up Jimmy who looked unnerved. "I'm Gibbs."

"Nice to meet you," Jimmy stammered.

"He works for the city medical examiner," Tony said pointedly. He smiled slightly at his partner. In two short sentences, he told Gibbs that Jimmy wasn't involved with Napolitano's network and he didn't know anything about Tim's real position.

Of course, Gibbs knew that already since he already told Gibbs about Jimmy when he helped Jimmy out of his financial difficulties some months ago. He just hadn't been able to tell Tony that yet.

"Really?" Abby asked intrigued. "You work with dead people?"

"It's really not all that creepy," Jimmy said, still stammering. "In fact, it's an integral tool that the police use to help solve crimes. Sometimes the cause of death isn't what it appears to be and knowing the truth can change the direction of the investigation."

"Oh," Abby said. "I didn't think it was creepy. Actually, I think it's kinda neat." Jimmy perked up. "So how do you know Blue, Gibbs?" she asked bringing them back to topic.

"The _Tin Angel_ had some plumbing problems a few months back," Gibbs replied. "I met him there. He's a good man. He's alerted his boys for any trouble. I've been watching them for the last couple hours, but they haven't moved. They must be waiting for something."

"You don't have anything better to do on a Friday night than watch hired muscle hide out in alleys?" Abby asked with amusement.

Tony caught his eye and then Gibbs'. They were treading close to the line of what was expected of them in their personas. As a handyman, Gibbs shouldn't be too interested in security issues.

"I do if it involves a club I've been spending time in," he replied. "I'm a cautious guy. I don't want to get myself killed over a glass of bourbon. Even if it is good bourbon."

"I see that," Abby said. "I don't like that La Grenouille has taken an interest in my club. Napolitano lets me do what I want with _Quicksilver_. I don't even know that Grenouille would let me keep _Quicksilver_. I like this place and I don't want to give it up. I put a lot of work into making it what it is."

"Easy," Tim said gently as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I'll call Mr. Napolitano in the morning. He doesn't want to lose _Quicksilver_ and he certainly doesn't want to lose it to La Grenouille.

Tony looked at him and then at Gibbs. He could tell that the older man was thinking the same thing as his partner. He was investing himself in Abby. If things went sour and he had to go back to being an ONI agent tomorrow, both of them were going to be hurt. Or worse, it could lead to the downfall of their mission.

A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that this whole thing was a bad idea. He wasn't necessarily lying to Abby about who he was, but he also wasn't being truthful either. It was a lie of omission and that was a terrible thing to base a relationship upon.

But he couldn't help it. He felt a connection with Abby unlike anything he had felt before. He knew that he would regret it if he didn't pursue this relationship. Abby was worth the risk.

"Thanks," she said as she smiled up at him. "I need to check in with Blue. I'll be back in a few minutes."

She pecked him on the cheek and left. In the interest in keeping their covers, they turned the conversation to other topics. When Abby returned nearly an hour later, she brought Ziva with her. He was surprised to see the slightly panicked expression on Tony's face as Gibbs looked at Tony meaningfully. He made a mental note to ask his partner what was going on as soon as they had a moment. It seemed to him that Gibbs and Tony had discussed Miss David and he felt like he ought to know what they had said.

Gibbs hastily stood up; claiming he needed to use the restroom but he suspected that it was so Ziva could sit next to Tony. But when Gibbs didn't return within a reasonable amount of time, he began to think that Gibbs really had gone to check on the Frog's men.

While Tony would never complain about sitting next to a beautiful lady, he didn't seem entirely comfortable with her presence, which was unusual for him. He allowed the others to carry the conversation for a time while he examined his partner.

Unlike himself, Tony was usually at ease with members of the fairer sex and he certainly didn't have any trouble charming any woman that crossed his path. The signs were subtle, but it seemed to him as if his partner was at war with himself. He clearly fancied Miss David but he wasn't turning loose his charm on the unsuspecting woman.

He couldn't understand why Tony was holding back. Was it because they were undercover? Suddenly he remembered Tony's advice to him regarding Abby and he nearly laughed. Was Tony trying to avoid a relationship _because_ they were undercover?

Tony's impetuousness with the ladies had nearly ruined at least two of their operations and earned Gibbs' ire on a few more occasions. The only conclusion he could come to was that Tony must really be afraid of falling head over heels for Miss David if he was using their job as a means of avoiding the issue in the first place.

He smiled at Tony and made a mental note to discuss it with his partner in private. He wasn't sure that Tony would want to discuss it with him, but he had to try. There was no way to know how long this mission might last. It had already been a year for Tony. He'd hate to see his partner put his personal life on hold indefinitely.

Filing those thoughts away for later, he rejoined the conversation with gusto. Eventually Tony relaxed and he and Ziva began to talk. Unsurprisingly, they hit it off and in short order, they were trading witty barbs.

Blue stopped by their table on occasion to update Abby but each time, he didn't have anything different to tell them. After his third visit, they concluded that the men had left the area when they saw Blue's men investigating. That allowed Abby to relax and enjoy herself.

They were so involved in their conversation that they didn't realize that the band had stopped playing and the club had nearly emptied out except for a few workers cleaning up.

Abby had just fallen asleep on his shoulder when Michelle walked by.

"Jimmy," she said clearly pleased to see him still there.

"Michelle," he said, his eyes lighting up as he saw her. "Would you like to join us?"

"Actually," she said. "It's late. I was hoping you might walk me home."

"Oh, sure," he said jumping up, which startled Abby awake. Jimmy hastily followed Michelle out of the club.

He gave her a squeeze and smiled at her. She looked absolutely beautiful, her eyes heavy with sleep. She smiled back at him and his heart fluttered. Suddenly she yawned.

"Oh," she said hastily covering her mouth. "Excuse me," she said through the yawn.

Tony yawned and said, "Speaking of that McGee, it's about time we head home too."

"You live together?" Ziva asked. Tony nodded. "Are you two roommates?" she asked looking between Tim and Tony. Then she looked at Abby, puzzled. He still had his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"For professional reasons only," Tony replied. "I'm his bodyguard."

"Tim works for Mr. Napolitano, Ziva," Abby replied as she rubbed her eyes.

"Oh, and you are important enough for your own bodyguard," Ziva replied. "I see. So, you cannot offer me a ride home?" She looked at Tony with a frown. "It is very late and with La Grenouille's men around, I do not want to walk home alone."

Tony was torn as he looked between the two of them.

He could tell that Tony really wanted to spend time alone with the pretty Palestinian woman. He watched as Tony waged a miniature war with himself. He clearly wanted to offer Ziva a lift home, but he also didn't want to get close to her. And he was going to try to use his job as a way out. Well he wasn't going to let his partner use him as an excuse.

"I can stay here until you get back, Tony," he replied helpfully.

Tony hedged. "I don't know. Naps'll kill me if he finds out."

"What's to worry?" Abby asked. "I've got security. In fact, I bet my apartment has more security than yours, especially since Napolitano increased the security here."

Tony looked towards the steps. One of Abby's security guards was walking up the stairs to relieve Simon at the front door. Tim noted the bulge at his side, indicating that he was armed.

"That's a good point," Tony said. "If you two are… you know… hang a sock on the doorknob or something so I stay away."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Tony," he said mischievously. He didn't think that would be the case, but he wouldn't say it was implausible.

Tony glared at him as he stood and followed Ziva out of the club. Gibbs bid them farewell and followed Tony.

"So, I was thinking, Abs," he said after they had gone. "Not that I mind how things have gone here and there," he said as he looked upward to her apartment. She smiled. "How about a real date? I could take you out to dinner and maybe take in a picture. I think it'd be a nice time."

"I think so too. I'd like that. I don't get out of here much," she said smiling as she leaned against him again. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. He leaned against the wall of the booth and was drifting off when he heard feet pounding down the stairs of the club.

He sat up and extracted his arms from around Abby, slipping his hand under his jacket and onto his gun as he turned towards the stairs.

"Blue!" Ziva shouted as she entered the club. Blue appeared from the behind the bar where they had set up a lounge for Blue's security team. "Some men have attacked Tony and Gibbs. They need help." Blue shouted and instantly half of a dozen men appeared, drawing their guns as they ran.

"What happened?" he asked forcefully as he drew his gun just in case.

"I do not know," she replied. She eyed the gun warily. "Tony was walking me to your car when we heard shots. Michelle and that man who was sitting at your table tonight were struggling with some men. One of them shot him. Tony and Gibbs ran to help and sent me back inside for help. I heard several shots as I entered the club."

He examined her. She was very calm for someone who had just been in a gun battle. He would worry about that later. His partners needed his help.

Without thinking, he started to walk towards the door.

"Tony specifically said to make sure you stay inside," she said, stopping him in his tracks. "He said to remind you of the promise that you did not make, whatever that means."

He stared at her and then deflated. He had never agreed to Tony's request to promise to take cover if something happened. But this wasn't the situation they were talking about. He wasn't the one they were shooting at. He was already in a safe place and going to help Tony and Gibbs would put him in danger.

He looked at the steps and growled slightly in frustration. He hated knowing that his partner was in trouble and that he couldn't do anything to help him.

"Hey," Abby said drawing his attention. He turned around and looked at her. "What would you do when you get up there anyway?" she asked.

"I can help," he said annoyed. He wasn't incompetent, and he wasn't a coward. And right now, his partners were in trouble and he felt like a lump standing here, doing nothing.

Abby looked at him. She was afraid. "You're an accountant, Tim. Not muscle like Blue and Tony. And where'd you get that gun anyway?"

"I always carry it with me," he replied, startling her. "You don't think that I'm going to leave my safety only up to Tony, do you?" he asked. "I trust Tony with my life but not so much that I won't protect myself."

"Do you even know how to shoot that thing?" Abby asked pointing at the weapon.

"Yes," he replied indignantly. "I wouldn't carry a weapon that I didn't know how to use."

"I meant at a person," Abby retorted harshly. "Shooting at a target doesn't count for shooting at a person."

He clammed up. He did know what it was like to shoot at a person. And he knew exactly how it felt to hit that person and to know that he was responsible for the death of another man. He didn't have a large body count to his name and that was something he was grateful for. Even in self-defense, he didn't like the idea of taking another person's life.

But, Abby took his silence as a sign that he didn't know what it was like rather than the opposite.

"I'm sorry Tim," she said thinking that she had hurt his feelings. "I know you're worried about Tony, but he can take care of himself." She took a few steps closer to him. "But I like that you're able to protect yourself because I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know," he replied. "And I know that Tony can protect himself. But I don't like the idea of hiding from a fight. I stand up to bullies. I'm not a coward."

"I never said you were," Abby said. She closed the gap between them. "So how come I didn't know about that?" she asked as she looked at his weapon. "You'd think I'd have found it when we… uhh." He followed Abby's eyes upward. "How'd I miss it?"

"A concealed weapon poses more of an advantage than an obvious one," Ziva said to his surprise. He turned and looked at her. "He would be sure to keep it concealed even during the most intimate contact. "What? Just because I am a woman does not mean I do not know how to protect myself. A girl in this line of work must know how to take care of herself." She smiled deviously.

He looked at her and suddenly came to the conclusion that Miss David was likely packing heat. She continued her devious smile as he eyed her, wondering if she had a gun tucked in her purse or perhaps strapped somewhere only a cad would go looking.

He was about to ask if she was packing but the sound of footsteps stopped him. He looked back at them and said, "Take cover." They did as he knelt behind a table and took aim. But as they waited, they noticed that the steps were halting and uneven.

Suddenly Michelle appeared. She was crying and covered in blood. He stood, speechless, as she hurried off to the kitchen without a word. Just as she returned with an armful of towels, Gibbs and Tony appeared, carrying Jimmy between them.

"Clear off that table," Gibbs said indicating one of the larger tables. He hurried and removed the small candle lamp that sat in the middle of the table. After he had done so, they hoisted Jimmy onto the table.

He was moaning, and his left side was covered with blood. Gibbs grabbed a towel and placed it over his wound. "Put pressure here," he said to Michelle. She nodded and did what she was told despite the groan from Jimmy as she pushed on his wound.

Gibbs then turned to Tony and started to examine him. He looked to be in pain as well. Now that he was in better light, he could see that Tony's right arm was covered in blood.

"Leave it," Tony muttered through clenched teeth. "It's a graze."

"If it were only a graze your grip would be better," Gibbs said as he glared at Tony. "Take off your coat." Reluctantly Tony pulled off his coat, with more grimacing than what would have occurred had it been a graze. Gibbs tore Tony's shirt open to get a better look at the wound then grabbed a towel and tore it in half. He took a second towel, made a compress and used the torn towel to tie it onto Tony's arm.

When he was done with Tony he returned his attention to Jimmy.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Abby asked. She was watching Gibbs intently as he worked.

"I've seen my share of gut wounds," he said as he examined Jimmy's wound. Suddenly he frowned. "The bullet is still inside. I can't take this out. He needs a doctor."

"Not going to happen," Blue said as he entered the club. "The cops are all over the place. We made enough noise that even the ones we pay to look the other way can't look the other way. If we go out there now, they'll find this place and I don't think Mr. Napolitano would be too happy to lose two clubs in a week."

"If we don't get him to a doctor," Gibbs said growling at Blue. "He'll die."

"Sorry to hear that," Blue replied unapologetically.

"Blue!" Abby said aghast. "We can't let him die on our table!"

"I'm sorry Abby," Blue replied softening. "We'd never get him into a car without the cops noticing. If you have any other ideas, I'll hear them."

"If we can't get him to a doctor," he said. "Why don't we bring the doctor here?"

"You know one who'll be discrete?" Blue asked. He nodded. "Can you give the cops the slip?" He nodded again. He had dodged the military police as a child. Dodging flat foots was ten times easier.

"My truck is parked in the opposite direction of where they're looking." Gibbs said.

"How do you know they won't expand their search?" Abby asked.

"We left them three bodies," Gibbs replied. "That'll keep them distracted for a while. The Frog doesn't hire quality muscle."

"Kort was there," Tony muttered.

"Yeah, I know that Tony," Gibbs replied. "He's the one that got you."

"But why on earth would they attack Jimmy?" Michelle asked through her tears. "They wanted him to go with them. When he refused, they tried to force him to go. That's when they shot him."

They looked at each other for a moment. La Grenouille had no reason to kidnap the assistant medical examiner.

Then Tony said, "I think they thought he was McGee." He was met with stony silence. "Come on," he said. "Sure, Jimmy is thinner than Tim but they're about the same height, brown hair, glasses. If I was given that description of Napolitano's money man, I would have thought he was Jimmy too, especially in the dark."

He was stunned. It made sense. With the increased security, La Grenouille couldn't take the club by force, but he could get him. He was a softer target. Either La Grenouille would force him to give up financial secrets or the Frog would trade him for the deeds to _Quicksilver_ , something that Napolitano would agree to do lest Grenouille turn him over to the Feds instead.

"Damn," he muttered when he realized that Tony was probably right.

"What about the cops?" Gibbs asked turning on Blue.

"They're swarming all over the place," replied Blue. "I locked and barred the door to the factory door and Simon is standing by. If needed, he'll pull the mechanism that works the secret door and bar it as well. The other entrances to the factory are locked and barred. It'll look like the place is locked up tight for the weekend and even if they come inside, they won't get down here into the club. The back stairs lead into a storage room and you have to go through the guard's lounge to get to the club. We're safe but we're in for the long haul down here."

"We still need a doctor," Michelle said.

Blue looked at Michelle and his expression softened. He looked at Jimmy then at Gibbs. "There's a man door by the loading dock. We have a clear line of sight down the alley. We can open that when you leave and when you come back," Blue replied.

"Ok," Gibbs said. He turned to him. "Who do you have in mind?"

"His name is Doctor Mallard," Tim replied. "He's the city coroner. Jimmy works for him as his assistant. He treats Jimmy like a son."

"A coroner?" Ziva asked incredulously.

"He's still a doctor," Tim retorted.

"You're sure about this Tim?" Gibbs asked.

He nodded. "I've met him before. I can explain things to him."

"Then let's go," Gibbs said.

Tony moved to go with them.

Gibbs turned on him and said sternly, "You stay here."

"Gibbs," Tony said harshly. "He's my responsibility. If he's going out there, then so am I."

"You're in no condition to go out there, Tony," he said as he pointed to the bloody bandage on his arm.

"This?" Tony asked. "This won't stop me from doing my job. Besides, I can shoot with my left just as well as my right."

"We don't plan on shooting," he said.

"No one _plans_ on it," Tony retorted. "But it happens."

"And if it happens, you'd be a liability and you know it," Gibbs said. "We're going to move fast, quick and silent. Stay here. I'll keep an eye on him."

He watched as Tony and Gibbs looked at each other. To anyone else, it would seem like Tony was deciding whether he could trust Gibbs. But to him, he knew that they were silently calculating whether this ploy was believable. And he could tell that Tony was calculating whether Napolitano would kill him even if nothing were to happen to him.

After a few moments, Tony nodded.

"Good," Gibbs said as he motioned to him. "Let's go."

"Wait," Abby said grabbing his arm. "What if the Frog's men are still out there? They're after you!"

"We'll avoid them," he replied simply.

"You're trusting your life to Gibbs?" she asked quietly. He could see her concern and he knew that she understood why Grenouille was after him. "He's a handyman."

"Not just a handyman," Tim replied as he kissed her forehead. "He was also a Marine sharpshooter in the Great War. Fought in the Battle of Belleau Wood."

"How do you know that?" she asked puzzled.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "He told me," Tim replied. "Don't worry. We'll be fine. I've been dodging cops since I was a kid." She didn't look convinced and he could see that she was working out a problem in her mind again, but he didn't have time to ask what was troubling her. They needed to go now.

"Let's go," Gibbs said curtly.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The Battle of Belleau Wood was a particularly bloody battle in World War I and is particularly famous among marines. In March of 1918, fifty divisions of Germans were sent to western Europe after the Russian's had surrendered. They managed to reach the north bank of the Marne River at Château-Thierry, 59 miles (95 km) from Paris by the end of May.

At the beginning of June, the Germans moved into the Belleau Wood and the US Marines completed a forced march to plug a hole left in the French lines. They turned back the German offensive, causing heavy German casualties. When urged to retreat by the French, "Retreat, hell. We just got here," responded Marine Capt. Lloyd Williams of the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment. This quote is only surpassed by the more famous line uttered by First Sergeant Dan Daly as the Marines pushed into the Belleau Wood, "Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?"

After a month of fighting, the Marines finally cleared what was left of the forest of Germans. The forest had been decimated by machine guns and shelling. On June 26th, Major Shearer submitted a report stating, "Woods now U.S. Marine Corps entirely."

The US forces suffered 9,777 casualties including 1,811 deaths. 1,600 Germans were taken prisoner and it cemented the reputation of the marines. It's also the battle in which the marines reportedly earned the nickname "Devil Dogs" (Teufel Hunde) by the Germans. But it seems it might have been used prior to the Battle at Belleau.

I alluded earlier that Gibbs fought at Belleau when he had some nightmares while he was waiting for Tim to return home after meeting with Napolitano for the first time. But now it is confirmed. Gibbs in this universe, is a true Devil Dog.


	15. Chapter 14 - Clandestine Operations

**Author's Note:** Originally, I said that the story was 26 chapters and a prologue but when I was doing a last read through before uploading, I realized chapter 14 was nearly double the length of any other chapter and it covered two separate plot points, with a very definitive shift between the two events in the middle. So, I split the chapter into two chapters and promptly added another 1000 words to this chapter and 1500 words to my new chapter 15 to do both plot points justice. :)

* * *

 **Chapter 14 – Clandestine Operations**

 _Gibbs_

* * *

He and Tim hurried with Blue to the loading dock and after Blue scanned the alley, he motioned for them to go.

"Don't be seen," Blue hissed. "It'll be my ass if you get caught by the cops trying to help that kid."

Gibbs didn't answer but the look he gave to Blue said that he had nothing to worry about.

"Don't worry," Tim said answering for him since he apparently felt the need to reassure Blue. "If a division of Germans couldn't find him, some flat-foots won't have a chance."

"This isn't a forest, McGee," Blue retorted as he opened the door. "And if you get caught, heads will roll, and I'd rather keep mine."

He checked the alley again and then stepped outside with Tim on his heels. He hurried down the alley towards the main street and paused at the corner to scan for cops. As the young man caught up to him, he turned around just in time to see Tim pocket his glasses. He stared at Tim.

"What?" Tim asked. "They're looking for a guy with glasses."

"You think that removing your glasses is an effective disguise?" Gibbs asked incredulously. Tim nodded. He shook his head and then slapped Tim on the back of the head.

"Hey," Tim muttered as he rubbed the back of his head. "You know, I haven't missed those."

"Come on," Gibbs said as they stepped out into the street. They moved cautiously but there didn't seem to be anyone around. When they reached Gibbs' truck, they slipped inside and drove off.

"McGee, about the woman, Abby," he said once they were safely away from the club.

"I know," Tim said with a sigh. "I think she suspects something."

"You think?" he asked incredulously.

"Ok, I know she suspects something. And before you say anything, I know," Tim said with a sigh. "Tony warned me the day I met her."

"Don't blow this op because of a woman, McGee, no matter how much you like her," he said. Tim frowned. "Do what you can to fix this. If it doesn't work, we'll have to take other steps. We can't let her ruin this operation, not when you've started to make progress."

"What'll you do to her?" Tim asked concerned.

He looked at Tim. Tim looked shocked. "I'm not going to kill her, if that's what you're thinking," he replied.

"I know that," Tim said hastily. "I didn't think that, Gibbs. But if she disappears, people will ask questions and they might look at me. It's not like I've hidden that I like Abby and get on with her. Napolitano even knows that we're sweet on each other."

"Or he could suspect the Frog," he suggested. Tim nodded in concession. "There's always blackmail," he replied softly. "She loves her club and doesn't want to see it shut down. We use _Quicksilver_ as leverage to keep her quiet. But I'd rather not do that. It's riskier."

"Me neither," Tim said softly. He glanced at McGee. If they had to go that route their budding relationship would be over in a blink of an eye. "I'll figure something out," Tim replied.

He nodded and fell silent. Despite the risks, he hoped that McGee did figure out how to fix this. After all his personal sacrifices for this case, Tim deserved a little happiness. And after working for her for months, he cared for Abby enough that he wanted her to be happy too.

McGee gave him directions and thanks to the late hour, they arrived in a quiet neighborhood in Georgetown in less time than expected. They hurried up to the door of a brownstone and Gibbs knocked, loudly. After pounding on the door and ringing the bell for nearly a quarter hour, they finally heard movement inside.

A light turned on in the upstairs bedroom, then in the downstairs parlor. Finally, they heard the lock on the door click open and the chain slide to the side. "Why in the blue blazes are you pounding on my door at this hour?" the irritated resident asked as he opened his door. He was an older gentleman, sturdily built and had a few traces of Scottish brogue in his speech. He had a robe hastily pulled on over his night clothes and glared at them through wire-rimmed glasses.

Tim pushed him aside and said, "Doctor Mallard, may we come inside?"

"No, you may not," he retorted angrily. "Not until you explain yourself."

"It would be better if we did that off the street," he said as he looked around. He didn't suspect that they had been followed but he'd prefer to make sure that they weren't seen just in case.

"Either you explain yourselves or I'll bid you goodnight and call the police," Doctor Mallard said angrily.

"It's about Jimmy Palmer," Tim said hastily. "He's in trouble."

"Jimmy?" Doctor Mallard asked, his tone softening. "Come in," he said. They nodded and entered the modest house. Doctor Mallard closed and locked the door then turned on a second lamp, helping to further illuminate the room. "What about Jimmy?" Doctor Mallard paused as he examined Tim. "I remember you," he said looking at Tim. "You helped Jimmy out a few months ago with that club owner, the one that was murdered." Doctor Mallard shot Tim a dark look.

"If you are implying that I killed him, then you are wrong, Doctor Mallard," Tim replied. "His death put me out of a job."

"We're wasting time, McGee," Gibbs said.

"I know," he said. "Doctor, we need you to come with us and we need you to bring your medical bag."

"Why? You said this had to do with Jimmy. Was that just a ruse to gain entry to my home?"

"No," Tim replied. "Jimmy was shot."

"Shot?" Doctor Mallard asked in surprise. "Give me a moment to change and collect my bag." He started towards his stairs, but he paused. "You _will_ explain to me how this all happened on the way."

"Of course," Tim replied.

"You might want to hurry, Duck," Gibbs said as he glanced at his watch.

Doctor Mallard looked like he was going to say something, but he thought better of it. He hurried up the stairs and out of sight.

"Duck?" Tim asked after he had gone.

"Yeah," Gibbs said pleased with his joke. "Mallard. Duck."

Tim rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Doctor Mallard returned a moment later, dressed and carrying his black medical bag. He turned off the light and pulled on his coat and hat as they left the house. Doctor Mallard locked the door and followed them to his truck.

He looked at the older man. He didn't seem very stealthy or very athletic. He could pose a problem if they had to dodge the cops trying to get back into the club. "I hope you're up for some covert action, Duck," he said as they got into the truck. Doctor Mallard slid into the middle of the truck.

"Whatever for?" Doctor Mallard asked as Tim sat in the passenger seat and pulled the door shut. "Was Jimmy involved in something illegal?"

He shook his head. "The kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Gibbs replied as he started the truck and pulled into the street.

Doctor Mallard looked at him for an explanation, but he remained silent as he focused on the road.

Tim took the initiative to explain. "He was shot escorting a club waitress home," Tim replied. "Other than having a few drinks, which he paid cash for, he did nothing illegal."

Doctor Mallard looked at him in shock. "Why on earth haven't you taken him to a hospital instead of coming to me?"

"Jimmy wasn't the only one shot tonight. There was an…" Tim searched for the right word. "...An incident between some competing businessmen. The cops are crawling all over the place. If we took Jimmy to the hospital, they could find the club," Tim replied. "And Mr. Napolitano wouldn't take that too kindly."

Those were both understatements. Their 'incident' had been a full out pitched battle between them and Grenouille's men. He and Tony had been badly outnumbered, and they had only managed to rescue Jimmy and the waitress because they had taken Grenouille's men by surprise. They had pulled Jimmy to cover behind a car where they had been pinned down while Grenouille's men worked to surround them.

Tony had just noticed Kort on their flank when he was hit. Fortunately, Blue's boys arrived moments later, and they were all crack shots. Grenouille's men were again taken by surprise and two went down in a hurry. The others hastily retreated, and he took out a third who was taking aim at Blue. They traded more shots and after a few more of Grenouille's men were injured, Kort called a full retreat and they beat feet out of the area.

The gun battle had been short, maybe only minutes, but it had been intense. He hadn't been in a skirmish like that since the Great War. A few of Blue's boys had been cut by flying glass, but they were lucky that none of their guys had been hit more seriously than DiNozzo's graze. And Tim was right, if they lost _Quicksilver_ to either Grenouille or the cops, Napolitano would be extremely pissed especially so soon on the heels of losing the _Tin Angel_. He was sure that heads would roll and even as a handyman, his head wouldn't be safe merely for the fact that he had been there.

The Doctor growled in frustration. "I have had enough of those gangsters and the side effects of their business. Too many people have crossed my table because of them."

"Well unless you know the secret to take them down, that's out of your control," he said as they drove through the streets. They were getting close to the club again. He slowed as he allowed a cop car to pass him. Thankfully he didn't seem to think they were suspicious and kept going.

"If only I did," muttered Ducky. "So, this is Mr. Napolitano's club we are traveling to. Are you hired guns to protect his investment?"

"Not exactly," Gibbs replied wryly.

"He's a handyman," Tim said. "I'm an accountant."

Doctor Mallard looked at them through the dim light as he pulled to the curb. "A handyman and a bookkeeper are certainly well armed these days."

He smiled wryly as he looked at the Doctor. "We're in a dangerous occupation, Duck," he said with the ghost of a smile.

"If I am putting my life in danger, I would like to know with whom I am traveling with," Doctor Mallard said.

"Jethro Gibbs," he said. He jerked a thumb towards Tim. "Tim McGee."

Doctor Mallard nodded. "If you choose not use my given name of Donald, then you may use my nickname," Doctor Mallard said. "I prefer Ducky to Duck."

He smiled wryly as he held out his hand for the Doctor's bag.

"Keep close to me," he said as Ducky handed him the bag. "Tim. Bring up the rear."

He took the Doctor's bag and led the way towards the club.

This time, the going was much slower. Twice they had to take cover and hide from pairs of cops searching the area. To his credit, the Doctor was surprisingly agile and most importantly, he was playing along with their cat and mouse game, if only for Jimmy.

By the time they returned to _Quicksilver_ , nearly an hour had gone by. But luckily Jimmy was still hanging on.

"Did anybody see you?" Blue asked as he let them inside.

"No," Gibbs replied.

"Are you sure?" he asked accusingly. He glared at Blue and Blue returned his glare.

"Gentlemen," Ducky said impatiently. "There is a man possibly bleeding to death inside your establishment. You can square off after I've seen to my patient."

"This way," Blue said as he led them back down to the club. Abby was holding Jimmy's hand but came to her feet as they entered the room. Ziva was seated next to Michelle, who was looking at Jimmy in shock. Tony came to his feet and met his eye.

Doctor Mallard hurried to Jimmy's side, displacing Abby, and immediately started to examine the wound.

"Don't worry, Jimmy," Doctor Mallard said, his voice masking the concern that was on his face. "We'll get you fixed up in no time." Jimmy didn't respond as he looked up at the Doctor's face. "Help me to lift him."

"No need Duck," he said. "Bullet's still inside of him."

"That's surprising," Ducky said.

"The gun was small," Michelle said, her voice rough from crying. "Hardly big enough to fit your hand."

"Probably a Baby Browning," Tony said. "Or a Colt 1908. Small, easy to conceal, not much power behind it but it'll get the job done."

"I have found that the size of the bullet doesn't matter if it is well-placed," Ducky said as he carefully removed Jimmy's shirt. The young man's stomach was covered with blood and after Ducky mopped up most of it, he saw that Jimmy was impressively fit. "Regardless of its size, it'll have to come out. I have some chloroform in my bag," Ducky said to Tim. He pointed to his bag. "Fetch it for me."

Tim knelt and opened the bag. The first bottle wasn't chloroform but it was at that moment that Tim realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. He watched as Tim cursed under his breath for his stupidity and reached into his pocket for the spectacles. After he put them on, he made a pretense of reading the label before replacing it in the bag and reaching for another bottle. That one was chloroform.

"I'll also need the chloroform mask, scalpel and forceps. They look like long tweezers. Then the suturing kit," Ducky said as he accepted the bottle. Tim found the requested items. He made to set them down on the table but Ducky jolted, stopping Tim in his tracks. "Do not put those down on this table!" Ducky said firmly before Tim could put them down. "Infection will be his greatest risk and I'd rather not introduce any contaminants to his wound."

"Would a freshly laundered towel work?" Abby asked.

"Yes," Ducky said. "And I need to wash my hands before I start. You as well," Ducky said pointing at Tim.

"Me?" Tim asked incredulously. "I…I'm really not the best person to assist you, Doctor Mallard," Tim said even as he blanched. He repressed a smile. Tim didn't exactly have the strongest stomach when it came to blood.

"Too bad," Ducky said curtly. "You got him into this mess; you must help me deal with it."

"But I didn't…" Tim objected.

"Tim," he said softly. He punctuated the man's name with a glance that told Tim to stop arguing.

Tim nodded. The two men disappeared into the back and returned after washing their hands. Tim took a deep, bracing breath as he stepped to Ducky's side.

"Get her out of here," Ducky said pointing to Michelle. The girl was traumatized enough. She didn't need to see them operate on the young man.

"Come here Michelle," Ziva said. "Let us clean you up," she said. Ziva led Michelle off towards the backstage area.

"Gibbs, take the mask and pour a few drops onto it," Ducky said. "Make sure the mask covers his nose and mouth and try not to inhale deeply yourself."

He nodded and did as he was told until Jimmy's breathing evened out and he was out. Ducky took a deep breath and began to operate.

"You might want to leave too," Gibbs said as he looked at Abby.

"No way," Abby replied. She was watching with fascination as Ducky worked. He shook his head and returned his attention to the doctor's work but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Tim looking at Abby. He looked concerned and smiled wanly at her. She returned the smile.

Ducky worked for some time, requesting various items on occasion and giving Tim curt orders. Even though he looked like he was ready to lose his lunch, Tim held it together and did as he was instructed and eventually Doctor Mallard pulled out the slug. "Got the little bugger," Ducky said triumphantly as he looked at it. He then set the forceps down and after the Doctor instructed Tim the proper way to thread the needle, he took it from Tim. He carefully stitched Jimmy up and sighed.

"Will he be all right?" Abby asked.

"I believe so," Doctor Mallard replied. "As you said, it was a small bullet. It appears to have lodged itself in Jimmy's oblique muscle."

"Is that one his very well-defined stomach muscles?" Abby asked as she admired Jimmy's form.

Ducky rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to tell Mister Palmer that you were admiring his physique when he wakes," Ducky said. Abby shrugged. "Yes, it is. And he was probably spared from greater injury because the bullet was stopped by the muscle mass. He does not appear to have lost as much blood as he could have with an injury such as this, but I will contact a friend of mine to do a follow up examination. He is discreet and will not endanger this club." Ducky looked around, seemingly for the first time, and nodded in approval.

"Good," Abby said. "I mean good that he'll be ok and good that my club won't get shut down."

"Your club?" Ducky asked incredulously.

"Yes mine," she replied defensively.

"He knows that Mr. Napolitano owns _Quicksilver,_ Abs," Tim said, his voice quavering slightly as he realized what he had just done.

"Oh," she replied sheepishly. "Right. I manage this club."

"Is there anything you can do for Tony?" Gibbs asked.

"Hmm," Ducky said turning to look at Tony. He removed the makeshift bandage. He examined Tony's wound. "A few stitches I think. Let's take off your shirt so I can get a better look at the wound." Tony nodded and started to unbutton his shirt. "Then I would greatly appreciate a scotch. It has been some time since I last had a drink. That is of course, if you have scotch."

"Of course," Abby said indignantly. "Have a particular region you're partial to?"

As he worked, Doctor Mallard said, "Well when I was in medical school at Edinburgh, I was partial to Bladnoch. But I came to enjoy Glenfiddich as I got older, though the Macallan will do just as nicely."

"Glenfiddich it is," Abby said.

Tim hastily excused himself to wash the blood from his hands, but he suspected that Tim had made his hasty exit, so he could finally empty the contents of his stomach. It was enough to perform surgery on Jimmy; Tim's stomach couldn't handle seeing his partner being stitched up.

Tony grimaced a few times as the Doctor worked but he didn't say anything.

"I do apologize, my boy," the Doctor said. "I am not used to dealing with the living."

"I noticed," Tony replied. "It's ok, Doc," Tony added.

"You can call me Ducky," he replied as he finished. "You'll want to find a proper bandage to cover that wound."

Abby stepped forward and began to help Tony bandage his arm from a first-aid kit she had collected from behind the bar. He smiled fondly at the sight of US Navy emblazoned across the green bag. If he were to guess, Abby had found the bag at a military surplus sale.

"As soon as I'm done with Tony, I'll get you your drink," Abby said. "It'll be on the house for helping out."

"Delightful. But give me a moment to wash," Ducky said holding up his bloody hands.

"I should do the same," Gibbs said as he held up his hands.

"I'm going to check with Blue," Tony said as he pulled on his shirt as Abby finished tying off the bandage. "I want to see what's going on for myself."

He hurried into the bathroom and washed the blood from his hands. The doctor was more meticulous, so he left the older man behind as he returned to the main room. Tim had returned and looked decidedly better.

He watched from the shadows as McGee sat down heavily in one of the chairs. While he had never met Jimmy, McGee had told him about the situation he had found Jimmy in when they first met six months ago. At the time, he had cautioned McGee about helping Jimmy with his debts at _Sugar Street,_ but McGee had helped anyway and thankfully it hadn't backfired on him.

McGee glanced at Jimmy. He was still out but his breathing was even and unlabored. Jimmy was younger than Tim and painfully naïve. For that reason, Tim had taken a liking to him. He knew that it would hit Tim hard if Palmer paid the price for resembling him.

"All right," Abby said. In the empty club, her voice easily carried to the doorway where he was standing in the shadows. "What's going on?"

Tim looked up at her. "What do you mean?" Tim asked innocently.

"There's something hinky going on, McGee and I don't like it," she said pointing a finger at him.

"Hinky? What the hell does that mean?" he asked puzzled.

"Weird!" she said poking him in the chest. "The gun, knowing Gibbs was a Marine, reading that bottle without your glasses to name a few. Plus you, Gibbs and Tony know each other far better than you let on. I can tell. There's no way that you just met Gibbs last weekend."

McGee stood up to gain a measure of balance between them. "Is it that unreasonable that Gibbs told me he was in the Marines?" McGee asked picking one that seemed to be the easiest to explain.

"No," she said. "But I've known him for two months and about all I know about him is that he likes Bourbon. You just met him last weekend. I can believe the gun thing," she said motioning towards his side where his pistol was concealed. "This life can get dangerous at times. But the glasses? You don't need glasses, Tim. I've seen you get around just fine without them."

McGee looked down. He shook his head. Clearly their time in the bedroom was backfiring.

"Oh my God!" she said, her eyes widening so much that her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. She lowered her voice and hissed, "You're a cop! You're here to close down my club!"

Oh boy. Here it comes. He put his hand to his weapon and prayed that he wasn't going to have to intervene. If Abby raised the alarm, Blue's boys would be on Tim before they could escape.

"Abby," McGee said grabbing her arm. "Are you trying to get me killed?" Tim asked. "Blue's jumpy enough that he's liable to do something drastic if he hears you say that!"

Abby lowered her voice so that he couldn't hear what she said. He edged closer but remained out of their eyesight. Fortunately, they were focused on each other and didn't notice him.

He scanned the club and didn't see any of Blue's boys either.

"I'm not here to close down _Quicksilver,_ " Tim said.

"But you are a cop," she said noting that Tim didn't deny that accusation. He held onto her arm and she didn't pull away. "If you aren't after me, then you must be after Napolitano." McGee didn't reply. "Are you with the police or the Prohibition Unit?"

McGee shook his head. "I can't tell you Abby. But I do need to know if you plan to tell Mr. Napolitano, 'cause if you do, then I'm a dead man." She bit her lip. He watched the battle being waged in her mind. He could see that Abby really cared for McGee, but he knew she loved _Quicksilver_. "I want to take Napolitano down and if I can do that, a lot of people will benefit. People like Jimmy." McGee pointed at the injured man. Abby frowned as she looked at the injured young man. "Men like Napolitano and Grenouille are bad for this city and this country. Palmer was shot because he looked like me and the Frog's men don't care that they got the wrong man. They just care that they didn't get the right one this time. They'll come again, and more innocent people might get hurt."

"But what about my club? You could shut it down to get at Napolitano," she said concerned.

McGee shook his head emphatically. "I don't want to take down clubs like _Quicksilver_. I love _Quicksilver_. I love the bands. I love the vibe. I love that I can come here and relax among friends." She smiled wanly at him. "I wish that you could operate in the open and not in hiding like this. I hate that you have to rely on people like Napolitano and bootleggers just to run a business."

"I hate that too," Abby said softly. "Especially Napolitano. He looks at me like I'm a…" Abby paused to search for the right word. "An escort. I mean, I'm really friendly and I'm a really good listener. And I like men…" Tim looked at Abby in amusement. "You know he even sent a woman here to try to set up a brothel?"

"He did?" Tim asked. "When?"

"Ages ago," Abby said, rolling her eyes. "Right after I took over, profits were way down in the dumps. I think Jimmy thought it would boost the revenues and make up for all the money we were losing. Holly Snow came by with a few of her girls to try to convince me they could work as dancers… with extra benefits. She'd give me a cut of the profits, but I told her no. I didn't want that kind of thing in my club."

"I'm glad you said no," Tim said. "I can't imagine that kind of thing in _Quicksilver."_ Abby nodded emphatically. Tim sighed. "You know that until prohibition is repealed, you're stuck dealing with men like Napolitano." Tim took a deep breath. Abby nodded reluctantly. "I don't want to close _Quicksilver_ and I don't want to stop seeing you."

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

McGee looked her in the eye and nodded. "I've never met anyone like you Abby. Maybe it is just me, but I felt like we have a connection that I can't quite put into words." McGee smiled his bashful crooked smile. "It's amazing, wonderful and terrifying all at once because by all rights, we're on opposite sides of the law."

"A law that you don't agree with," she said.

"I don't agree with it," McGee said fervently. "It created men like Napolitano. It created more problems than it fixed."

"That's the truth," Abby muttered.

"But I'm sworn to uphold the law," Tim finished.

"So, you will shut down my club," Abby said sullenly.

McGee shook his head. "No. Shutting down every one of Napolitano's clubs wouldn't stop him for long. And my mission is to take down Napolitano." She looked at him hopefully. "I care for you and I don't want to do anything to hurt you, Abby. And I want to continue seeing you if you'll have me."

Abby stared at McGee for a long while, searching his features. He knew McGee wasn't lying but Abby had to decide for herself. Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "I don't care that you're a G-Man, McGee, and I won't tell Naps either. I don't want anything to happen to you. I'd never forgive myself if I did something that got you killed."

He smiled as McGee looked shocked at her reaction. But a second later he grinned and returned her hug. "Thanks for believing me," McGee said.

"Promise me you won't shut down my club," she said.

"Abby," he said. "I can't promise you that won't happen. You know I can't promise that. I will promise that I will do my best though."

"I guess that'll have to do for now," she said as she pulled back. "So, Tony and Gibbs are too?" Tim opened his mouth. "Wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know what I already know."

"Huh?" Tim asked.

"My lips are sealed," she said just as Ducky joined him. She leaned up and tenderly kissed McGee.

"They do look like quite the happy couple," Ducky said. "Ah young love," he opined.

"Yeah," he replied as Ducky passed him and walked over to Jimmy to check him over.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

1\. I always thought that Ducky's nickname was either a play off his last name (an actual duck) or Donald Duck or perhaps both. But for this story, Donald Duck hasn't been invented yet. He won't make his first appearance in a Disney cartoon until June 1933. So Ducky's nickname is based on his surname.

2\. Tim claiming that he won't be recognized without his glasses was a tip of the hat to Superman and his alter ego Clark Kent. I never could understand why no one could figure out Superman was Clark Kent without glasses either! But like Donald Duck, Superman hasn't been invented yet. He doesn't appear in the comics until 1938.


	16. Chapter 15 - Ulterior Motives

**Chapter 15 – Ulterior Motives**

 _Gibbs_

* * *

He watched Abby and McGee for a moment longer. They were talking quietly so that he couldn't hear what they were saying but they both seemed content with their newfound situation.

He joined them and looked at Abby meaningfully.

She smiled bashfully.

"You heard, didn't you?" she asked. He nodded and glanced at Ducky. "Can I buy you a drink, Gibbs?" she asked.

He nodded and followed her to the bar where they were out of earshot of Doctor Mallard.

"This puts me in a tough situation, you know," she said as she looked behind the bar for the bottle she kept just for him. "I've only known Tim for like a week. Or if you add up our time together, like twenty-four hours total. I should go straight to Napolitano." She looked down at a stack of glasses.

"But you're not going to," he said softly.

"No," she replied as she looked up at him. "And it's not because I'm in love. I mean, who falls in love at first sight?"

He smiled slightly. He had. He had fallen heel over heels in love with Shannon from the first time he met her. It took some work to win her over though.

"I'm not sure I've ever really been in love," she continued as she toyed with the glasses. "But that's not the point, even if we weren't… horizontal dancing," she said as she pointed in the direction of her apartment. "I wouldn't turn him over to Naps."

"Because you're a good person," he said. "You know it would get him killed and you don't want that."

Abby nodded as she leaned on the bar.

"Did you know I wanted to be a detective when I was a kid?" she asked. He shook his head. They knew each other but not that well that they had discussed childhood dreams. "I used to save up all my pocket money to buy Sherlock Holmes books. I loved how he could find the teeniest, tiniest bit of evidence to help him figure out who the criminal was. I even used to try to solve crimes around my hometown. The Mystery of Who Stole the Gumball Machine. The Mystery of the Missing Chickens." He smiled. "The gators did that one."

"I hope you didn't try to arrest them for the crime," he said with a chuckle.

"I didn't," she replied. "But my uncle Horus did. That gator made a really tasty gumbo," she said with a smile. He stared at Abby. Even after knowing her all this time, she managed to surprise him. "And he managed to trade enough of the meat to buy me two more books. He was a really great haggler."

"So that's why you wanted to be a detective," he said.

Abby shook her head. "Figuring those things out was fun but my first _real_ case is why I wanted to become a detective," she said. "You see, we used to live next to this old junkyard," she said. "At first it was filled with old street cars and wagon parts. But when I was maybe ten, they started getting wrecked cars. I used love sneaking into the junkyard to look at them. Sometimes I was just trying to figure out how they worked. But I also liked to figure out how the cars had been wrecked and I would reconstruct accident scenes using my brother's toy cars."

Abby laughed at the memory.

"It used to drive Luca crazy when I took his cars but he always listened to me when I explained what happened," she said with a fond smile. He smiled as he imagined a pint-sized Abby explaining a car crash to her brother. "Then one day, a wreck came in to the junkyard. Gloria, she told me not to go looking at it."

"Gloria?" he asked.

"My mom," Abby replied. "She never liked to be called 'mom.' She always told me that she'd explain why one day but then she died, and I had never found out. My Pa, he never did explain it either," she said. "Luca said she probably didn't like it because it made her feel old but I got the feeling it was something else."

Shaking her head, Abby said, "Anyway, Gloria didn't want me looking at it because someone had died in the wreck. She said it was inviting trouble with the spirits, but I went anyway." He smiled, unsurprised. "I believe in ghosts, but I also believe that the dead are really in no position to cause the living any trouble. Found out that wasn't true the hard way."

She sighed. "You see, the car belonged to a local judge and his family. The judge was killed in the crash and his family was hurt real bad," she said.

He noted that her New Orleans accident was getting stronger. "I looked over every inch of the car and I found a teddy bear which I figured was his daughters. I had already planned to find her and give it back but then I realized the car had been tampered with."

"The accident hadn't been an accident," he said.

She nodded. "I took the bear back to the little girl and I told her Mama what I found," Abby said. "You'd think that she'd be happy to know it wasn't an accident. That they could find the person who tampered with their car and he'd face justice for what he did. But she just shook her head and told me to forget what I had saw and that I should get rid of the bear. I was so confused."

"What happened?" he asked.

Abby looked up at him. "The judge had been presiding over a case against a black man for stealing. The judge ruled that the black man wasn't guilty and the white folks who had accused him weren't at all pleased. It didn't matter that the black man innocent. They wanted him convicted because he was black."

"What happened to the black man?" he asked wondering if he had been lynched.

"It's not what you're thinking," Abby said quickly. "He got out of town as soon as he was let out of jail," Abby replied. "Took his wife and daughter with him too but not before his little girl gave the judge's daughter her prized possession to thank her family for helping hers."

"The teddy bear," he interjected.

"They got away," Abby continued. "But the judge paid for it with his life." Abby sighed and leaned on the bar, propping her chin on her hands. "I wanted to be a detective so that I could get justice for people like the judge. I even learned everything about forensics and fingerprints. Practiced that on my family. I didn't realize until I grew up that there weren't no female detectives."

"You could always be the first," he said.

Abby looked up at him and smiled fondly. "See Gibbs, that's what I like about you. You're always so encouraging. When things got tough around here with all the renovations, you told me to keep at it. It'll pay off in the end, you said. And you were right." He smiled. "My daddy always told me I could do anything if I put my mind to it. He helped me get into college and he was so proud of me when I graduated with my mathematics degree.

"Of course, I couldn't get a job because apparently women can't add well enough to be a bookkeeper," she said sarcastically. "Even with a mathematics degree, I couldn't even get a job as an accountant!" He frowned. "So, I figured if I got another degree, that would show them. I got a chemistry degree too and still that got me nowhere. I was tending bar here to make ends meet when Napolitano took over. The manager he hired to run the place was as dumb as a box of rocks." He chuckled. "I took over and I've been happy ever since." She looked up at him. "I guess that didn't really explain anything," she said.

He smiled. Her story told him more than she suspected. Abby was smart, driven and had a sense of justice.

"Everything Tim said is right," she said. "Guys like Napolitano are ruining this country. An innocent man was shot because he was in the wrong place. So, yes, I want to stop Napolitano even if it means my club gets shut down. And I also want to protect Tim. Not just because I like him, and he doesn't disappoint me in bed."

"Too much information," he said softly.

Abby smiled mischievously as she poured him a drink.

"I want to protect Tim because it's the right thing to do," she said as she met his eye.

He looked at her, reading her intentions. When he was satisfied, he nodded and sipped his drink.

"I'll understand if you don't believe me," Abby started to say but he cut her off.

"I believe you," he replied. "But it comes with a warning. I protect my people. From _all_ threats."

"I understand, Gibbs," she said as she turned and collected another bottle from a shelf. She quickly poured another drink. "I promise I'll keep the secret. You'll see that you can trust me."

"We'll see," he said slowly.

Abby nodded and picked up the glass. She took it back to the table where Ducky was monitoring Jimmy's pulse. "One Glenfiddich," she said.

Ducky accepted the glass of scotch from Abby. He tasted it and closed his eyes appreciatively.

"That is excellent quality, my dear," he said. "And here I thought that all of these gin joints only served hooch cooked up in the back woods."

"Of course not," Abby replied indignantly. "We serve quality liquor here, Ducky."

"I see that now," he said. "Perhaps I might venture here once again if there should be an occasion."

Abby smiled brightly. "The next time you're here, ask me for L 'Esprit de Courvoisier," she said.

"The Spirits of Courvoisier?" Ducky asked.

Abby nodded. "It's a bottle of cognac that was part of a shipment that one of my sources of liquor came across. I think it was meant for La Grenouille but my source won't confirm where he got it. Anyway, Napoleon was the first to drink the cognac at his coronation in eighteen oh two. And since then, only the very best vintages has been added to it. Over a hundred years of empires, revolutions, and war and still the cognac continues on."

"History in a glass," Ducky mused. She nodded. "I would be delighted to partake in a glass of that cognac, my dear."

Abby smiled.

Suddenly Jimmy shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't suppose that there is someplace more comfortable that we could allow Jimmy to truly rest? I doubt that table is very comfortable," Ducky said.

"There's a couch in Ziva's dressing room," Abby suggested.

"Michelle is sleeping there," Ziva said as she approached them. "I gave her a brandy to calm her nerves and she fell asleep from exhaustion. The poor girl is a heap."

"Heap?" McGee asked.

"Wreck," Abby supplied. "English is like her fourth or fifth language. Idioms rarely come out right." Ziva frowned as she mouthed the word 'wreck.' Abby looked at Tim then reluctantly said, "We can take him the guest dressing room. There's another couch in there. I'll get some of the boys to do it," she said as she saw Blue entering the club with Tony following him. They all had dark expressions.

"What's going on?" McGee asked. "What's wrong?"

"The cops are still swarming the area," Tony said. "We aren't going to be able to leave for a while yet. How's the kid?"

"Stable," Ducky replied, "For now. But he does need to get some proper medical care and possibly a transfusion but that would be best done in a hospital. I've done all that I can do for him."

"Will he be ok for the night?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky looked thoughtful for a minute and then replied, "I think so yes. There is so little of the night left. I would like to get him to a proper medical facility as soon as possible, however."

"We'll see what we can do for him, Duck, but that's dependent on the police outside," Gibbs replied. "If they continue to swarm around, Blue isn't going to let us take him out. Worst case, I think we can get him out under the guise of a delivery truck come morning."

"Then let us hope that the police complete their investigation into the shooting and leave quickly," Ducky said.

"Doesn't seem likely Doctor," Blue replied. "They've got quite a mess to investigate. One death could be blamed on a robbery. Three makes them wonder what was going down. They're going to take their time with this investigation."

"Especially when they find all the brass we left behind," Tony muttered. "They're not the only ones who want to investigate. I'd love to know if they were really after McGee," Tony said.

"Well if you would have grabbed one of Grenouille's goons instead of killing them all," Blue muttered.

"Hey!" Tony said annoyed. "When someone shoots at me, I shoot to kill. This ain't a pillow fight. I didn't see you take any prisoners either Blue."

Blue rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort.

"Enough," he growled, silencing any further argument. "You want one of them?" he asked. "No problem."

"You're going to grab one of them, just like that?" Abby asked.

He just smiled and left, leaving Blue standing agape.

After a second, he heard Blue say, "He's mad."

He smiled to himself as he reached the back door. He was anything but mad.

When he reached the back door, he explained to Levin what he planned to do. Gayne looked at him like he was crazy too but he checked the ally anyway. When he determined it was clear, Gayne opened the door and let him out. He cautiously padded through the alley until he could see the front street where the gun battle had taken place.

Cops were all over looking for clues to what might have happened and where the perpetrators had gone.

He slipped back into the alley. He would double back and take the long way to where Grenouille's men had set up their ambush.

He carefully moved through the alleys and side streets until he reached the spot he had seen Grenouille's men lying in wait. It only took him a few minutes to find a weaselly looking man dressed in a suit watching the hubbub from a doorjamb.

He drew his gun and joined the man.

"Hey," the man said startled. "Who are you?"

"Don't matter," he replied harshly. "Did the cops find the club yet? La Grenouille didn't want it shut down."

"No," the weaselly man said relaxing. "All they found was some of your friends' bodies."

"They're dead," he replied harshly. "They weren't any friends of mine. They leave you here to keep watch by yourself?"

"Yeah," the man said. "Everyone else either didn't want to get nabbed or needed to see the doc."

"But you were brave enough to stick around," he said.

"Yeah," the man said proudly. "And I can report back that they didn't find the club."

"Good," he said. "Let's do that. My truck is this way. I'll give you a lift."

The man brightened up. "Hey thanks," he said.

"Keep close. I'd hate for the cops to get you."

He led the way and nearly shook his head at the stupidity of the man following him. He led the way back towards the loading dock and when he reached the door, he paused.

"What?" asked the man.

"Shout and you'll regret it," he said as he grabbed him by the back of his jacket with one hand and thrust his pistol into the man's ribs with the other. The man was so startled that he didn't say anything. He waited a moment before the guard opened the door and allowed them to enter.

"Where'd you find him?" Gayne asked as he roughly frisked the man and relieved him of a revolver and a Baby Browning. He took the weapons from Gayne and sniffed them. Both had been recently fired although that didn't tell him if this was the Browning that shot Palmer. Both weapons were fully loaded.

"Watching the cops," he replied when he finished inspecting the weapons. "He wasn't that hard to find. He was practically standing out in the open."

Pocketing the weapons, he dragged the man down into the club. As they entered, McGee quickly pulled off his glasses and tucked them away. Apparently, Tim still thought that taking off his specs was a good disguise. He and Abby had been looking at something small but he couldn't see what was in Abby's hand.

Tony was seated with Miss David and seemed to be in an intimate conversation. But on his arrival, Tony stood and turned to face him. He noted that Tony was resting his injured arm on his belt to lessen the strain.

Surprised, Tony said, "That was quick."

Gibbs smiled slightly. "Yeah well, he wasn't hard to catch. It's amazing the cops didn't find him first. Sit down," he said roughly forcing the man to sit at the table that was spotted with Jimmy's blood. The man looked at the blood and paled.

"Ziva," Tony said softly. "I think you ought to check on Michelle."

Ziva's eyes flashed. "I am not a delicate flower, Tony. I do not need to be sent away because you intend to question a rival. I am not afraid of blood."

"I know," Tony replied.

"Oh, it won't get bloody," he replied. "There are other ways to get a man to talk without making a mess."

"Then you do not intend to harm him?" she asked looking at him intently.

He smiled lightly. "Didn't say that," he replied. His captive fidgeted in his seat. "But it would be best if you didn't witness this."

"Are you to make Abby leave as well?" she demanded.

He shook her head. "This is about her club. She has a right to be here if she wants."

"And I do," Abby said fiercely as she stared at the man.

"Ziva," Tony said. "Gibbs is right. The less witnesses, the better."

"Very well," she said sharply. "I will go and check on Michelle."

When she was gone, he demanded, "What's your name?"

The man blinked before replying, "Fred. Fred Rinnert."

"Looks like a little weasel," Tony muttered. "How is he part of Grenouille's muscle?"

"Even muscle needs a brain, Tony," McGee replied softly.

"Are you saying I'm stupid?" Tony asked looking at McGee.

Tony looked annoyed and he couldn't tell if it was genuine or just a ploy to get a rise out of Tim. McGee sighed and decided to play it safe. "I'm not saying that you're stupid. I'm saying Grenouille's muscle is stupid."

"Hey," Gibbs said glaring at them. Tony bit back a retort. He didn't need the two of them bickering while he tried to figure out what this guy was up to. They were all tired and cranky. And in Tony's case, he was in pain. "Fred," Gibbs said as he sat down opposite of Rinnert. "This is how it's going to work. I'm going to ask questions and you're going to answer truthfully."

"Or what?" Rinnert asked smugly. "You do anything to me and my Boss will make sure that you pay. La Grenouille doesn't take kindly to people roughing up his employees."

"If you don't answer truthfully," Gibbs said softly. "I'll let you go." Fred looked puzzled. That offer didn't sound so bad. "After I make sure that Grenouille knows you snitched on him."

Fred paled. La Grenouille was getting a reputation like Napolitano's. He dealt swiftly and harshly with people who betrayed him. "He knows I wouldn't," he said. "He knows I'm true blue." Fred spoke strongly but they could hear the doubt in his voice.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked with a smile that belied horrible fate that would undoubtedly await him. "Personally," Gibbs said as he rubbed the corner of his mouth thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want to take that chance."

"Yeah but if I talk, then I will be a snitch," Fred said.

That was logical. And that meant that Rinnert was in trouble no matter what he did. He watched as Fred worked that fact out for himself. At the same time, McGee worked it out and he could see that his young agent realized that Fred's lifespan just got a whole lot shorter. McGee frowned.

"Sounds like you've got a problem, either way you look at it," Gibbs said.

"Also, doesn't give me much reason to talk," Fred retorted. "If I'm going to die, I'd rather not go out as a snitch."

"Well then. I guess I'll just have to find another way to persuade you." Gibbs leaned forward and whispered, "If you don't talk, I'll give you to Kyle Boone."

Fred blanched. "You wouldn't?" McGee looked at Tony but he shook his head. Tony didn't know what he said either. He looked back at Fred and smiled. Fred's eyes widened. Suddenly he blurted, "I'll tell you anything you want! Just… just don't do that!"

"Is Grenouille interested in _Quicksilver_?" Gibbs asked.

"Well yeah," Fred replied as if that was a stupid question. "Why wouldn't he? This place has been hopping the last month. If this place makes as much money as he thinks it does, of course he wants to take over its assets especially since the _Tin Angel_ fell from grace so to speak."

"But the increased security," Gibbs said.

"Put a hold on his plans," Fred said cutting him off. Apparently once he started talking, he was going to keep going, even without additional threats. "He couldn't exactly muscle in with all the goons you got keeping an eye on this place now."

He eyed Fred critically. It had been a while since he had interrogated a suspect. He had almost forgotten what it was like to steer someone into answering the questions he wanted answered. "So that crew out there was just out to cause trouble?" Gibbs asked.

"Well yeah," Fred replied with a half-smile. "If we made a little noise, then people might be afraid to come down here." He looked around the club, clearly impressed. "You know, if the cops started hanging around the neighborhood, it would make it more difficult for patrons to reach _Quicksilver_."

"So, if he couldn't have my club, he would at least force me out of business?" Abby asked angrily.

"Abby," McGee whispered as he put a hand on her arm. She deflated and settled for glaring at Fred. McGee pulled her back and pulled her into his arms. At first, she was tense but slowly she relaxed. Tim smiled grimly and hugged her close.

"I so wish I could punch you on the nose," she said as she glared at him.

"Like to see you try, doll," Fred replied haughtily. Abby started forward, balling her fist. If McGee hadn't caught her around the waist, he was sure that she would have belted Fred. And apparently Rinnert thought so too, because he looked around for a means of escape and had half risen from his seat. He reached out and grabbed Fred by the collar and pulled him back into his chair.

Abby growled slightly, which further served to unnerve Fred. McGee leaned down and said something only she could hear. He kissed her cheek and squeezed her shoulders. Suddenly she slumped against him, defeated.

With the situation was diffused, Gibbs looked at Rinnert critically. He knew in his gut that Fred was lying. Or if he wasn't lying, he was at least stretching the truth. Either way, he would find out the real truth. "That sounds like a pretty good plan, Fred."

"Yeah, it does," he said, his gaze shifting from Abby back to Gibbs.

"If Grenouille can't have it, no one can," he said. Abby tensed again but McGee squeezed her arm and she settled

"Yeah," Fred replied as he glanced at her nervously.

"I see one small problem," Gibbs replied.

Fred looked confused. Apparently, he didn't see a problem with the plan but McGee did. If they were planning on making trouble, they would have done it earlier in the evening when more patrons were leaving _Quicksilver_. Not after almost all of them had gone. It would have been even better if they had stirred up trouble while people were trying to enter the club.

Gibbs looked at Fred and replied, "If that was the plan, you wouldn't have waited until everyone was gone." Tony smiled grimly, knowing he had Fred in his crosshairs. "Why target two people when you could target twenty an hour earlier? Attacking two people doesn't cause enough trouble to hurt the club's business. It's either random violence or a targeted attack. We know it wasn't random violence, don't we Fred?" Fred looked more than a little nervous now. "So why attack that one man?"

Fred didn't reply so he glared at Fred. Fred slowly grew more and more unnerved until he blurted, "Grenouille heard that… he heard that Napolitano's numbers man started coming here after the _Tin Angel_ went down." Then Fred said softly, "We were supposed to grab him and use him to get information on Napolitano's business, so Grenouille could target Napolitano directly. Then he was going to turn him over to the law."

"To take down the competition," he supplied. Fred nodded. "But you shot him. You could have killed him."

"With that peashooter?" Fred asked motioning to him. "Not a chance."

"This peashooter?" he asked as he pulled out the Browning. He removed the magazine and cleared the chamber before setting the gun onto the table next to the blood splotches. "You shot him with this peashooter?" he asked again.

Suddenly Fred realized what he had just admitted. "I didn't say that," Fred stammered.

"We could prove it's the weapon," Abby said suddenly.

He looked at her. "Because of the rifling in a gun barrel, each gun leaves a unique set of marks on a fired round," Abby said as she stepped up to the table. Tim followed close behind in case she decided to punch Fred anyway. "We have the bullet Ducky took out of Jimmy," she said as she set the bloody round next to a fresh one.

"You can do this?" Gibbs asked.

Abby smiled as she looked at Fred. "Oh yeah," she replied. "I have a friend who can help me out. Ramsey, he works for the Metro Police…"

"We don't want to get the police involved," Tony said quickly.

"Oh, they won't," she said quickly. "Ramsey and I go way back," Abby said. "We got our chemistry degrees at the same time. He'll be discrete."

He studied Abby for a moment and then nodded.

"Sounds like you're up a creek without a paddle, Freddie," he said turning back to the frightened young man.

"All right, so I did shoot him, but I didn't mean to," he said quickly. "I was just trying to scare him into coming along. How was I supposed to know some bookkeeper would fight back?"

Tim frowned but he silenced the younger man with a look. He looked back at Fred.

"Your problem there, Fred," he said, his voice taking a dangerous tone. "Is that you and your goon friends almost killed an innocent kid. The man you shot wasn't Napolitano's money man. He's the assistant to the city medical examiner."

"But he fit the description!" Fred said. "Tall, brown hair, and glasses."

"You know how many men fit that description in this town?" he asked as he stood and leaned over Fred menacingly. "Lucky for you, he didn't die." Fred cowered in his chair as Blue returned.

"Jimmy is settled in on the spare dressing room couch, Abby," Blue said as he entered the main hall. "The Doc is with him. I checked the building and it's still secure," Blue said. He caught sight of Fred. "Who's this scrawny thing?"

"Fred Rinnert," he replied. "Works for La Grenouille." He stood and pulled Blue off to the side. "They were after Gemcity and he's the one who shot Jimmy. He confirmed it."

"They still hanging around?" Blue asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. He told me that everyone either left because they didn't want to get pinched or they needed medical attention. He thought I was one of Grenouille's men at the time so he was telling the truth."

"Napolitano'll want to talk with him," Blue said.

"That's what I thought," he replied.

"Mr. Napolitano?" Fred asked. If possible, he paled even more. "He'll give me to Boone for sure. You promised!"

"I did," he said as he noticed Tim frown again. "I can't speak for Mr. Napolitano."

Blue motioned to McGee and Tony. They stepped off to the side. "I will be calling Mr. Napolitano as soon as we secure Mr. Rinnert."

"It's four in the morning," Tony objected. "You don't think that's going to irk Mr. Napolitano?"

"Naps'll want to know that Grenouille tried to kidnap me," McGee said. "Even if his men blew it." Blue nodded. "Although I don't know what he'll do at this hour."

"Thankfully that's not our problem. But either way, I don't think that Fred is going to like his end of the deal," Blue said. McGee frowned. "You have a problem with Mr. Napolitano's justice system?" Blue asked.

"I don't know if I'd call it justice," McGee replied.

"Well he will be getting due process," Tony quipped. "He's going to get a trial with a jury of his peers."

Tim snorted. "Maybe so but it isn't going to be a fair trial and I'm pretty sure that there's only one penalty regardless of his guilt or innocence and that's the death penalty."

"He admitted to shooting Jimmy," he said. "And he admitted that they were gunning for you, McGee. What more evidence do you need?"

Tim frowned.

"At the best, you'd have been turned over to the law. At worst, you'd be killed either by Grenouille or Napolitano to keep you from spilling to the law," Blue said. "Any way you look at it, if he had succeeded, your life would have been hell." McGee couldn't argue with him. "Grab that guy," he said to a couple of his men. "We'll get him out of your sight, Miss Sciuto."

"Thanks, Blue," she said even though she didn't look very happy.

"Looks like we're staying here for a while," McGee said.

"That would be for the best," Blue said with a nod. "If the cops are still lingering in the morning, I'll see that your friend is taken out of the building in a delivery truck. But for now, it's better to just sit tight."

"I'll go find some blankets," Abby said.

But McGee shook his head. "I doubt that we'll be sleeping."

Tony nodded in agreement.

"Well I'm going to at least sit down. Would you sit with me, Tim?" she asked.

McGee nodded and walked over to their booth. They sat down and he pulled her into his arms. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep. She was clearly exhausted by the day's events. In spite of himself, Tim's eyes started to droop and within minutes, he was out.

"Cute," Tony said with a grin. He sighed and looked towards backstage. "I'm going to go smooth things over with Ziva."

"DiNozzo," he said sharply, stopping the younger man in his tracks. He lowered his voice. "She knows." He inclined his head towards Abby.

"She knows?" Tony asked just as softly. He nodded. "Everything?" He nodded again. "Ah hell. What do we do?"

"For now, nothing. She isn't going to Napolitano. But I want you to keep a close eye on the situation. If something we do threatens this club, she'll have to choose. And right now, I don't know which one she'd pick. I'm leaning towards McGee."

"Yeah," Tony said as he glanced at McGee. "For now." They watched the two lovebirds sleep for a moment longer. "I'll keep a close eye on her."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** As I said in the previous chapter, this was all one chapter before. But I realized that Gibbs capturing and interrogating Fred Rinnert really should be it's own chapter. It also gave me the chance to flesh out Abby's character and her reasons for not turning in McGee for being a cop that wasn't because they're pitching woo (as Tony put it).

I tweaked the story line from Abby's 'first case' episode _Hit and Run_ because I'm certain an interracial relationship wouldn't have happened in the era of Jim Crow, especially in the deep south of Louisiana. ( _Loving vs Virginia_ didn't occur until the 60's and many states (including every state in the south) had anti-miscegenation (inter-racial relationship bans) laws on the books until the Supreme Court ruled that they violated the 14th Amendment.) Even with the changes, it captures Abby's deep sense of justice and frustration that things can't always be put right. It also explained how our brilliant scientist ended up managing an illegal speak easy instead of catching criminals as a forensic scientist!


	17. Chapter 16 - Cracked

**Chapter 16 – Cracked**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

 _July 1932_

He looked up as someone knocked on the apartment door.

"You expecting someone?" Tony asked.

"No," he said as he looked at the various ledgers and papers scattered across their dining room table.

"I'll see who it is," Tony said as he stood up and made his way to the door. He started to hastily gather up his notes and wondered where he could stash them when he heard Tony call out. "It's ok Tim. It's for you."

Getting up as Tony re-entered the dining room, he made his way to the living room. He blinked in surprise.

"Abby," he said as he saw her standing by the door with a bag. She was wearing a casual black and white polka-dotted tea dress. Which, on second glance, he realized the white polka dots were tiny white skulls. He wondered where she could have gotten a dress made of that kind of fabric but instead he asked, "What are you doing here?"

She hesitated.

"I had an idea," she said suddenly. "About the ledgers."

He stared at her for a moment.

"I could use the help," he said finally. Abby grinned. She dropped her bag in his room and followed him back to the dining room.

Since he had overheard Fornell talking to Napolitano, he had been trying to decode the ledgers. There were several entries that seemingly fit with what he overheard. But it had been two months and he still hadn't had any luck.

He had finally asked Tony to figure out some way to get information on Fornell to see if that would help him sort out the books. After some thought, Tony had reached out to Leon Vance since they knew he would be discreet.

And now that he was seeing Abby, she had started to help him.

Well she had started to help him once she had convinced him that she wasn't going to turn him over to Napolitano. Gibbs had been convinced since that night in _Quicksilver_ when he and Abby talked at the bar. But he wasn't sure how a story about a car wreck was enough to convince Gibbs that they could trust Abby but it had.

He, on the other hand, needed a little more proof. Their lives were on the line.

It wasn't that he didn't want to believe her. He did. But by nature, they were opposing forces. He was the law and she was the law breaker. She might not like Napolitano but he owned her club and if Naps was arrested, she might lose _Quicksilver._

But nothing happened. Abby kept her word and didn't say anything to Naps. And every time she saw him, she reaffirmed that she couldn't fault him for what he was trying to do. She had told him that she thought the world would be better off without people like Napolitano. They were responsible for a lot of the bad things that happened around town. The people who suffered because of Napolitano's business decisions deserved justice even at the expense of her club.

It had taken a great deal of work on her part to convince him that he could trust her. Eventually, he came around and so did Tony. And for the last few weeks things had been good between them. Very, very good. He hadn't been this happy for a very long time.

But hours later, they hadn't made any headway on decoding the ledgers.

Abby sighed in frustration and stood up. "I'm sorry Tim. I really thought I had something. Here, I just wasted two hours of your time."

"It's ok," he said. "It's not like I've made any headway myself," he said. "It's nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of."

"You mean Tony doesn't help?" she asked. He shook his head causing her to giggle. "It's funny, you didn't look happy to see me a few hours ago."

"I was just surprised to see you," he replied. "You're not needed at _Quicksilver?_ "

"It's a Tuesday," she replied. "They're my light days. Stan can handle things. I figured I could be more helpful here but this is impossible," she said as she looked at the pages scattered across the table.

"It's not impossible," Tim replied evenly as he tapped his fingers to the rhythm of the music playing from the radio in the living room. "We've narrowed it down to a couple of options. This one could go with Tobias Fornell. The numbers match up. And we also think that we've found his ex-wife's entry. So, if we are right and this is Fornell's line in the ledgers then we just need to figure out the code and determine how Wbalgott equals Tobias Fornell."

He tried to speak calmly but traces of frustration made it into his voice. Abby looked at him sympathetically. He tried to hide it but she knew him too well. In fact, it felt like she had always known him and it felt like he had always known her.

"We're still working on an awful lot of assumptions McGee," Abby replied as she paced slightly. "And as a scientist, I hate assumptions. We need facts and evidence."

"We have evidence," he replied weakly.

She snorted. "We have a dozen entries that might fit Fornell and twice that many that might fit his ex-wife! Until you get some evidence, we could stare at these books for days and still not come up with the code."

He leaned back and sighed. "I know."

"Have you tried an Affine shift cipher?" Abby asked.

"Without the multiplicative inverse?" he asked. Abby shrugged.

"What about a frequency analysis?" she asked.

"I've tried frequency analysis, transposition ciphers, a Vigenére cipher and every other cipher I can think of," he said in frustration. "And the more I worry about this the less likely I am to figure it out."

"Yes," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. "And I don't like seeing you stressed."

He leaned into her hug. "I don't like being this stressed," he replied.

"Oh," she said sympathetically. She shifted to his side and leaned in to kiss him. What started off as a chaste kiss for encouragement quickly turned into something more.

"If you two are going continue necking, I can leave the room," Tony said drolly.

Breaking apart, he cleared his throat. "Sorry about that Tony," he said as he wiped the corner of his mouth. Abby smiled and wiped some lipstick from his lips. Tony was seated at the table with his feet kicked up onto a chair while he read today's paper. Tony had been so quiet, he had forgotten his partner was in the room.

"Hey," Tony said. "I am happy that you two are dating," Tony said begrudgingly. He smiled wryly at his partner. Tony had forced himself to say those words.

"We're not dating," Abby said quickly.

"What do you mean, you aren't dating?" Tony asked as he rested the paper on his legs. "We go to _Quicksilver_ almost every night so you can be with each other." Abby nodded. "And you stay here several nights a week too." Abby nodded again. "You also go out to dinner and spend most of your free time together."

"Yeah," she replied. "But we're not dating."

"Even though you're getting a wiggle on, you're not dating?" Tony asked incredulously.

"I don't like labels," Abby said sweetly.

"You're ok with this McGee?" Tony asked.

He shrugged. Not long after he and Abby had made up, he had tried to put a label on their relationship and Abby had balked. Then he had tried to talk about the future but she had deflected the conversation. He even brought up the idea of marriage and a family. Abby had agreed those things were nice but she wasn't sure they were for her.

It was then that he realized that Abby wasn't going to be the settling down type. At first, he had been disappointed even if it wasn't surprising. Even though it was still early in their relationship, he had allowed himself to think about their future and Abby had dashed those dreams effectively.

Then he realized that he had two options. He could break things off with her or he could enjoy their relationship for what it was. Considering that he was undercover and trying to take down a mob boss, he had serious doubts that he could effectively meet and court a woman to the point that they would get married because any relationship would be built on a subtle lie about who he was.

There were more than a few good reasons to continue seeing Abby. She was smart, fun, a fantastic dancer, and the sex was great. He weighed his options and decided to enjoy their relationship for what it was.

"Really, Tony?" Abby asked. "You need to ask that?"

"Yeah?" Tony asked half afraid of the answer.

"Tim is an excellent dancer," she said saucily. He blinked and felt the heat rise up his neck. "Especially of the horizontal steps."

Tony's expression fell. "I really didn't need to know that," Tony said dryly.

Abby smiled sweetly. "What about you and Ziva?"

"Me and Ziva?" Tony asked feigning innocence as he lifted his paper again to hide his face.

"Yeah," he said. "You've been sweet on her since you met."

"And you've sent her some gorgeous flowers," Abby said. "Martha's Garden does good work and they aren't cheap either."

Tony shrugged. "Oh. I found them in a telephone directory. Are they really that expensive? I thought flowers were flowers."

He looked at his partner. Even though he couldn't see Tony's face, he could tell that Tony was lying through his teeth. Tony knew exactly how expensive those flowers were and had selected that flower shop because it had a reputation for being the best.

Abby saw through him too. "Ziva loved them." Tony perked up and lowered his paper again. "Are you going to ask her out one of these days or are you going to be content to admire her from afar?"

Tony shook his head. "I don't know Abby." Tony looked at him. "You know that everything is more complicated because of our job." Abby looked at him then back to Tony. "Tim got lucky." Abby winked causing Tony to roll his eyes. "You are an understanding gal. Can you tell me that Ziva is the same?"

Abby bit her lip. He had asked her the same question when it became apparent that Tony and Ziva were attracted to one another. But Abby couldn't say one way or another.

Abby had only met Ziva shortly before hiring her as _Quicksilver's_ resident singer. Ziva had a long resume at clubs all over the world from Tel Aviv to Cairo in Arabia, from Venice to Paris to London in Europe, Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires in South America to New York and Chicago in the States. Abby had hired Ziva on the strength of her voice alone but her exotic beauty had helped her case.

Abby only began to hear the strange rumors after she had hired Miss David. Mysterious happenings seemed to occur wherever Miss David had been singing. A whisper of a theft of jewels from Venice. A hint of a mysterious disappearance in Rio. A rumor of a suspicious death in London.

Tim had done some of his own research but like Abby, he had only heard snatches stories and nothing that could connect the strange incidents to Miss David. Although one man Tony had spoken to said he would swear on a stack of bibles that Ziva was a spy and assassin who had retired from the trade. Unfortunately, the man's credibility was somewhat lacking but as Gibbs was fond of saying, he didn't believe in coincidences.

Even so, it was hard to believe that Ziva could have done all the things they said she had done. One of her so-called victims had been killed with bare hands and he wasn't sure that Ziva was capable of such strength.

But still they remained cautious around Miss David even if she hadn't given them any reason to distrust her. And he had gone so far as to ask Gibbs if he would look into her for Tony's sake. Thankfully they had been in _Quicksilver_ at the time and that had saved his head. But the glare he had received had nearly the same impact as one of Gibbs' head slaps.

"That's what I thought," Tony said when Abby didn't reply.

"Well there's one way to find out," Abby said. "You should ask her out."

"I don't know Abby," Tony said. "Maybe once I know more about her."

He opened his mouth to ask Tony how long he planned on waiting but he was interrupted by the news report on the radio.

"...And this is your news in brief. The body of a man washed up on the shores of the Potomac today," the newscaster said, drawing their attention. He looked up at the radio. "Police have identified the man as Frederick Rinnert of Georgetown. Mr. Rinnert was found among the wreckage of a barrel leading police to believe he may have attempted to go over Great Falls. Needless to say, he was unsuccessful. In other news…"

Abby hurried into the living room and switched off the radio. Undoubtedly Rinnert's death was Napolitano's handiwork. And as unsavory as Rinnert was, he didn't want to see him dead.

"Creative," Tony said as he looked up from the paper. He looked at Tony incredulously. "I had forgotten all about Freddy. Although I am surprised that Naps held onto him for over a month. At least he went out with a splash."

"Something like that," he muttered darkly. Tony didn't seem to be perturbed by Fred's death in the least.

Abby looked at him. He had told her several times that he wasn't happy with what was going to happen to Fred and that he wished he could do something to save Rinnert's life. He had even come up with some hare-brained plans to get Fred turned over to the Feds. Even though Abby didn't want to see Fred killed either, she had talked him out of doing anything stupid. Thankfully.

"Look McGee," Tony said looking up from his paper. "He _shot_ Jimmy. Abby has the evidence." Abby nodded. "And Blue was right. If they had caught you, either you would have ended up dead or in the Feds' hands. For what it's worth, my money was on dead. Either way, the end wouldn't have been good for you."

Tim sighed and nodded. At the least, his cover would have been irrevocably blown. But more than likely Tony was right and he would have been killed.

"Needless to say, it wouldn't have been good for me either because if they had gotten you then I would be dead."

"How you do you figure that?" Tim asked.

"Take your pick," Tony replied darkly as he returned his gaze to the paper. "In order. Death by shootout with Grenouille's goons. Death by Gibbs for letting you get caught. Death by Naps for letting you get caught. Or death by Naps for you being a G-Man."

"Good point," Tim replied.

"Still," Abby said. "There's been a lot of trouble because of my club. I've heard that there has been some trouble with La Grenouille's men."

"You could put it that way," Tony said.

"This isn't about your club Abby," Tim said. "Trouble between Napolitano and the Frog has been brewing for months."

"Tim's right," Tony said. "Naps and the Frog's bootleggers have clashed before. Kort and his boys tried to hijack one of my shipments of liquor bound for the _Tin Angel_ and we taught them a lesson back then too."

"There's only so many independent clubs that the Frog can take over before he has to make a play for Napolitano's network," Tim said. "Jimmy has to push back so the Frog knows it isn't worth it to come after Quicksilver again."

"Is that how you justify all the bodies stacking up?" Abby asked. He frowned. "Ask Tony what the paper says about the uptick in crime."

"Most of that doesn't make papers," Tony said. "But we're both aware of it, Abby. I worked as one of Napolitano's enforcers and Tim's office is next to Jimmy's. Not to mention that we've both been on guard any time we leave this apartment. If the Frog targeted Tim once, it's only a matter of time before he comes after Tim again."

"That's why we're working to decode these ledgers, Abby," he said as he pointed to the various sheets of paper. "We need to find who's protecting Jimmy and take him down. Think how much good that would do."

Abby nodded and sighed.

"I need a drink," Abby said suddenly. "Do either of you want one?"

"Sure," Tony replied. "I'll have whatever you have."

"No thanks," Tim replied as he stared down at the books. "I need to keep my head clear."

"You sure you don't want a drink?" He shook his head. "Are you sure?" she asked wheedling.

He needed to think clearly and muddling his brain with liquor wouldn't help. "I'm sure," he replied with a small sigh as he looked back towards the living room and the now silent radio.

"You're upset about Fred," she said as she moved to their small liquor cabinet to pour their drinks.

"No kidding," Tim said sourly. "And alcohol won't improve my temperament. In fact, it'll make it worse. Alcohol is a depressant, Abby. I don't need any more help in that department."

She sighed. "Tim, you shouldn't take this so personally."

"How should I take it?" he demanded. She and Tony looked at him sharply. "Jimmy was shot because he fit my description. Tony was injured and three men were killed because of me. How is that not personal?"

"Because if you weren't Napolitano's money man, they wouldn't have attacked you," Tony said as he looked at him. "They went after the title, not the man. Trust me there is a difference."

Abby walked over to their small liquor cabinet and poured a drink for Tony. She held it out for him and he watched as his friend reached out with his right arm. Tony winced then reached out with his uninjured arm. Under Doctor Mallard's care, it was healing well but it was still painful.

Abby returned to the cabinet to pour herself a vodka tonic. He had never had vodka before patronizing _Quicksilver_ but he found he liked the spirit which Abby somehow imported from Russia. He and Tony had taken to keeping a bottle in their small liquor cabinet for the occasion that they felt like a drink without going out for the evening.

And Tony was right. There was definitely a difference between a personal vendetta against a man and an attack for business reasons. But regardless of the reason, the men had been after him and if he hadn't been at _Quicksilver_ , Jimmy wouldn't have been shot and Tony wouldn't have been hurt defending him. Personal or not, it was his fault that his friends were hurt.

"Well it was me. I am Napolitano's bookkeeper and Jimmy was shot because of me," Tim said sourly.

She frowned as she poured the vodka into the glass, adding a little more than usual. "How is Jimmy? He seemed like a nice guy."

"He's recovering," Tim replied. "He's been having a tough time working since part of his job is lifting bodies and whatnot. And the standing isn't easy for him either. He had to reduce his hours but Ducky has been helping him out. I'm pretty sure that the Doctor allowed…"

"Insisted," Tony interjected.

"Insisted," Tim agreed. "That he should move into the Doctor's home since Jimmy couldn't make rent on his reduced pay."

She smiled as she sipped her drink. "That's really sweet of Ducky."

Tim shrugged. "It's nice for the both of them. Ducky lives alone and I think he likes the company. And Jimmy really looks up to the doctor so he was more than happy to move in with his mentor." Tim smiled a little. "I just wish it wasn't for this reason. Jimmy didn't deserve what happened to him. This is the second time he was hurt just for wanting a drink. And as much as I detest Fred Rinnert for his part in this mess, he didn't deserve to die either."

"Look," she said. "Grenouille has dozens of people like Fred. You're irreplaceable, Tim."

"You're just saying that because…" Tim said but he trailed off as he looked down at the ledgers. How could he be so stupid?

"Because?" Abby asked prompting him.

He didn't answer. The pieces were falling into place.

"Because you two are sleeping together?" Tony asked impishly. He tactfully ignored his partner.

Abby turned around and glared at Tony, who grinned back. "Tony!" she admonished but it didn't wipe the smile from his face. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she stared at him. Tony was irrepressible sometimes and it was usually better to not dignify his comments with a response.

"What?" Tony asked impishly. "It's true. You just said as much!"

"Well yes," Abby said with a sly smile. "And he's good." Tony pulled a face at her and he tactfully didn't say anything. "But that's not the whole reason that Tim is irreplaceable."

He blinked. That was it. Or more accurately, that wasn't it. "Abby, you are a genius," Tim said drawing her attention again. "Not irreplaceable. Replaceable," he said. "I know how to break the code. It's a substitution cipher. A simple substitution cipher."

"But we thought of that days ago," Abby replied as she returned to the dining room.

"Actually, I thought of that the first time I saw the books," he said.

"Ok, I know that I'm not the brightest penny in the pile but you are McGee," Tony said. "I've seen you break substitution ciphers in at least three different languages. How'd you miss this one?"

"I didn't know you could speak any other languages," Abby said looking at him.

"My Spanish is rusty," he said with a shrug. "I managed that one with help from Tony and Gibbs."

"But that still leaves two other languages," Abby said puzzled.

"Latin," he admitted reluctantly.

"Really? Who uses Latin anymore?" Abby asked.

"Someone who thought that they were being smart by using a dead language as a part of their code," Tony said. "Thankfully they didn't count on McGee going to Catholic school or the nuns that terrified little Timmy into fluently learning a language that no one uses anymore."

"Hey," he said defensively. "You weren't there. And all I'm saying is some of the nuns I knew could get extremely agitated."

"Agitated nuns forced you to learn Latin?" Abby asked. She giggled. He glared at her half-heartedly. She hastily hid her amusement but she was only partially successful. Coughing, she said, "Sorry. So, what was the third language?"

"English," he replied. Abby rolled her eyes.

"Hey," Tony said. "Back to the point here. How'd you miss this substitution cipher? I mean, you can decode these things in your sleep."

He looked at the books. "It's not like we have a phrase to decode Tony," he said. "There aren't any grammatical clues that I could use to solve the puzzle. All I have – at least I'm assuming – are proper names. Even if I would line up all the entries together, I couldn't begin to find a pattern because there isn't one."

"Ok," Tony said following what he was saying. "And now that you have narrowed down the entries that could belong to Fornell."

"You can use trial and error to see if any of those entries actually translate into Fornell," Abby finished as she joined him to look over the books.

He nodded. "Exactly," he said excitedly. "And look at this one. Wbalgott. I'll bet you that Balgott is the encrypted version of Fornell," he said triumphantly. "It's so simple."

"So, what about the W?" Tony asked as he joined them.

"Maybe it's his first initial?" Abby asked.

"Only way to find out is to try to apply this cipher to the other entries to see if it makes sense," Tim said as he grabbed a fresh stack of paper. He quickly wrote out the alphabet and the appropriate letters below it that would translate Fornell's name. "Tony, weren't you supposed to meet Vance today? To get the research on Fornell?"

"Yeah," Tony replied. "Met him for lunch. Hang on," Tony said as he stood up. Tony left and returned a moment later with a large envelope. "What did you want to know?"

"What was Fornell's ex-wife's name?" he asked

"Diane," Tony replied. "Diane Jones. She changed her name back to her maiden name after divorcing Fornell. Strangely enough that was the fourth name change record on file."

"She had a previous marriage?" Tim asked. Tony nodded. "To whom?"

"Let's see. Name changes. Fornell to Jones. Jones to Fornell. Gibbs…"

"Gibbs?" Tim asked as Tony cut himself off and looked up at them. "Our Gibbs?"

Tony looked into the paperwork. "Well look at this. Seems Diane Jones and our own Leroy Jethro Gibbs were once hitched. For a grand total of ten months nine years ago. I wonder if the Boss talks to her at all."

"Doubtful," Tim replied. "Wouldn't he know that she got into debt with Napolitano?"

"Why would she go to her ex-husband for help?" Abby asked. "I can't imagine that it was an amicable split. She couldn't have imagined that he would have helped her."

"She went to Fornell and they're divorced," Tony retorted as he skimmed the file. "But…Fornell and Diane have a daughter. Emily. She's seven."

"That explains a whole lot," Tim said. "Napolitano must be threatening Fornell's daughter as well."

"I know that Napolitano isn't exactly a nice guy but to threaten a little girl?" Abby asked as she frowned. "That's low."

"That's the only way Fornell would help Napolitano," Tim said firmly. Abby looked was surprised at his conviction.

"And you know that how?" Tony asked voicing her thoughts.

"I've dealt with Fornell and I've overheard him in Napolitano's office. He hates working for Napolitano. The only reason why he is working for Naps is because he's being forced to. I thought it was just to protect his wife. But he must be doing it to protect his daughter too," Tim replied.

"Does the code prove that?" Abby asked as she glanced over his shoulder. He nodded. They only had three letters of the wife's name from the ledger but it fit with D Jones. "It does," she said impressed.

"You know what that means, Tim?" Tony asked. She looked at him. "We're going to have to talk to Gibbs about his ex-wife." Tim shuddered. Abby smiled at his reaction. Clearly, she didn't know what that was a bad idea. Thankfully Tony clarified. "You laugh because you don't know better Abby. I'd rather go swimming in shark-infested waters than bring up any of Gibbs' ex-wives."

She looked between the two men. "Gibbs has more than one ex-wife?"

"He has three," Tim replied. Her eyebrows shot upward in surprise. "I wonder why Gibbs didn't say anything when we mentioned Fornell to him?" he asked. "I thought he recognized the name when Napolitano sent him to recruit me."

"Maybe he didn't know his ex-wife married this Fornell?" Tony suggested. He shrugged in concession. "But that's not the worst of it," Tony said.

"What else could be worse?" Tim asked.

Tony looked at him like it was obvious. "Fornell might not be the leak. From what Leon could find, it doesn't seem like Fornell would have access to the inside information Napolitano has been getting."

Tim frowned. "Well he is a leak but maybe not the main leak."

"So, he's a drip?" Abby asked with a mischievous smile. Tim rolled his eyes at her then stuck his tongue out at her. She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. "You need a drink to celebrate figuring this out Tim," she said as she stood and walked over to a small cabinet.

He wasn't sure why she was so insistent that he have a drink but he didn't argue this time.

"Are you trying to liquor McGee up so that you can take advantage of him?" Tony asked roguishly.

"Maybe," Abby replied slyly.

Tony turned and looked at him to see if he'd refute Abby's claim. He shrugged and smiled. He liked it when Abby took advantage of him. Tony's expression soured and he took a sip of his drink to console himself.

"So, Tony. How come you didn't read that file?" Tim asked.

"Huh?" he asked. "I read it."

"If you had read it, you would have known that Gibbs had been married to Fornell's ex-wife," Tim replied.

"Ok, I skimmed it. I couldn't exactly read it while I was on duty, now could I? How would I explain reading a file on Tobias Fornell?" he asked. "You know for being so bright, McGee, you ask some dumb questions."

Tim rolled his eyes as he accepted the drink Abby was holding for him. "Thanks," he replied as he sipped the beverage. "Bringing this up with Gibbs is going to be an interesting conversation."

Tony snorted. "No kidding."

He looked down at his makeshift set of ledgers. He felt his face fall.

"What?" Abby asked concerned.

"Do you know how many names are in the ledgers?" Tim asked suddenly deflating. "There have to be thousands. This is going to take forever."

"If you give me some of your notes, I could work on decoding the ledger too," she said. Without hesitating, Tim passed over his notes. She smiled as she grabbed a pen and started to work.


	18. Chapter 17 - Comfort Zone

**Chapter 17 – Comfort Zone**

 _Tony DiNozzo_

* * *

 _September 1932_

He smiled as he smelled the single orange calla lily. He wasn't an expert on flowers but it had drawn his attention the moment he walked into the flower shop. He had never seen anything quite like it and instead of walking out with the bouquet he had intended to buy; he walked out with the single flower.

And it smelled lovely. It was just like Ziva. Exotic and beautiful.

Ziva had sung a short set tonight since Abby had booked some famous jazz band tonight. He didn't recognize the name but Tim had been overly excited since last week when Abby told them she had booked the band. He did his best to listen to his partner's excited chatter about an up and coming jazz musician but he tended to zone out after a few minutes much to Tim's annoyance.

He knew that Ziva would be singing a few songs with the band later but not until after the band's first set and they had just started their first song. Tim was settled in their usual booth eagerly listening to Wendell Hobbs and the Blue Romance. Gibbs was nowhere to be found. Abby was busy with the club and that meant he had some time on his hands to pay a visit to Miss David.

He lifted his hand and knocked. A moment later Ziva opened the door. She had replaced her evening gown that she had worn during her set with a much more comfortable and cooler silk robe. Being mostly underground, the club stayed significantly cooler than most places but still he would be hard pressed to call it cold in the club. There were too many people keeping the place warm with their body heat.

"Tony," she said smiling when she saw him.

"Miss David," he said as he produced the flower from behind his back.

Her eyes widened in delight as she took the flower and smelled it. "It is lovely," she said as she opened the door to allow him inside. He watched as she found a vase and filled it with water. She smelled the flower one last time before placing it in the vase on her dressing table.

"Not half so lovely as you," he said charmingly as he took her hand in his and placed a kiss on it. He wasn't unhappy to see that she had a ceiling fan which was stirring the air rather pleasantly. He looked up and saw her frown. "Something wrong?"

"Why do you not call me Ziva?" she asked puzzled.

He shrugged. "Manners I guess. I was taught that it was polite to address a lady as Miss or Mrs. unless told otherwise. Would you prefer that I call you Ziva?"

"Yes," she replied. "We have known each other for too long for you to continue to be so formal." She motioned for him to take a seat on the day bed. "What brings you to see me tonight?"

"Oh," he said. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. You know, without a crowd."

"It is rare that we see each other alone," she agreed.

"McGee is more excited to see the guest band than any man should," Tony replied. "Seeing you gave me a good excuse to get away from him. Plus, I get to see you."

As he sat, she said, "I do not understand you Anthony DiNozzo." She sat down next to him, her long leg peaking tantalizingly out from her robe. He looked at her leg from the toes up to the mid-thigh and caught himself imagining what the other would look like.

"I like to maintain an air of mystery," he said slowly as he forced himself to look her in the eye. "Just like you do Miss David." He caught himself. "Ziva."

But instead of smiling in return, Ziva frowned. "That is not what I meant. You are sending me crossed signals."

"I think you mean mixed signals," he said correcting her.

"Then what is it that is crossed?" she asked clearly confused.

"Crossed wires are a misunderstanding of plans," he replied.

"Oh," she said. "That is not it then. Because we have not made any plans. You are sending mixed signals."

"How so?" he asked.

"We have known each other for four months," she said. He nodded. "I am attracted to you and I think that you are attracted to me."

"I am," he replied earnestly even as he worried where this conversation might lead.

McGee might have found his best friend or whatever they were in a night club but what were the chances that he had found his in the very same club? He was attracted to the exotic Miss David and had been ever since he first laid eyes on her. To hear that the feeling was mutual was exciting and frightening all the same especially with the lingering questions regarding the mysterious occurrences that seemed to occur around her.

He had never been one for commitment. He hadn't had much luck with it. Part of that was because he rarely spent much time in any one place. And part of that was because he never stayed with a woman for very long before he grew restless.

Then there was the issue of his current position undercover. Abby had taken to their situation like a fish to water. If she found out the truth, would Ziva do the same? Could he risk their mission over a beautiful woman? There was too much at stake. Tim's life. Gibbs' life. His life.

"So why is it that you have not pursued something further? Do not be mistaken," she said. "I enjoy the flowers you send me. And I enjoy your company. But it is infrequent and I would like more than a chaste kiss on the hand." He blinked. That was forward. She smiled slyly. "Tony. Not everyone subscribes to your red nose American sensibilities."

"Blue nose. Not red nose and I see that," he said smiling in return. The thought of more intimate relations with Ziva had crossed his mind on more than a few occasions but he had never allowed himself to come close to acting upon those thoughts. "But it is complicated, Ziva. My job right now is to protect McGee. And if I commit to you in a way that you deserve, I wouldn't be doing my job."

Suddenly she laughed.

He stared at her, wondering what he had said that she had found so amusing. Then he worried that he had completely misunderstood the point of the conversation.

"Tony," she said as she set at hand on his leg. "I am sorry. I did not mean for you to think that I do not want your affections."

"Then why'd you laugh?" he asked.

"Because, I understand that you have a duty to McGee." Her gaze grew distant for a moment. "I understand duty and service very well," she said almost to herself. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "I understand that I must be second in your thoughts, even if I do find it odd that I would come after a man," she said wryly.

"Oh," he said wondering how he should answer. He looked at her and couldn't deny that he wanted to get to know Ziva. He definitely couldn't deny that he was attracted to her and intrigued by her.

Her face fell at his hesitation. "I am sorry I brought it up," she said as she started to stand.

He caught her hand, preventing her from standing. "No. I'm glad you did. You've been waiting for me?" he asked.

"I enjoyed our game of cat and dog," she said.

"Cat and mouse," he corrected. She frowned as she mouthed the phrase. He smiled. He had enjoyed their game of cat and mouse too. The flirting, the intense debates that had been subtly sexually charged, the moments spent among their friends at Abby's table. He enjoyed all of it.

"Whatever you call it, I have grown tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Perhaps it is not ladylike to be so forward but this is nineteen thirty-two."

"I like a modern woman," he said smiling. "Is that why you've been teasing me with," he said as he motioned to her legs. She smiled coyly. He returned her smile, enjoying the game but his smile faded. "I'm just worried," he said.

She smiled, making his heart skip a beat. "I am not asking for you to marry me," she said with a little laugh.

"I know," he said. "Besides, that would be a little strange for a woman to propose."

She looked at him. "And what is wrong with a woman taking the initiative to propose?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," he said hastily. "Just strange." She continued to stare at him in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable and fearful for his health. "I mean, you don't hear about it all that often." She relaxed. "I can't promise anything Ziva but I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. So, I'll do my best."

"Good," she replied. With a small smile, she leaned in. He met her half way and what happened in the middle was electric. "See what you were missing."

"Yeah," he replied. She leaned in for another kiss. "Wait." She paused and looked at him, waiting for an explanation. "Look. I think you're great and all but…" He paused. "I need to know something first."

"What?" she asked as she sat up.

"You know I'm McGee's bodyguard, right?" he asked. She nodded. "Well that means checking into the people that he's going to run into frequently. Like you."

"I have never run into McGee," she said perplexed.

He shook his head. "Not literally run into. The phrase means people he's going to encounter on a regular basis." She still looked puzzled but he could see small signs that it was an act. "Like Blue or his boys. I needed to find out that they were all on the up and up and that I could trust them around Mr. Napolitano's money man."

"A wise precaution," she said slowly. "You checked into me?"

He nodded remembering the conversation with a Bureau man he knew from their days in Baltimore. He had used his first day off after McGee fell head over heels for Abby and it became apparent that they'd be spending their time at _Quicksilver_ to drive up to Baltimore to talk to him.

He swore Sacks to secrecy about their meeting and told him a line about being undercover investigating Navy bootleggers. Fortunately, Sacks bought it and didn't ask why he wanted to know about a foreign singer. They met a week later to discuss what he had found.

" _I looked into her," Ron said over a cup of coffee in a small diner near the inner harbor. They were both dressed in rough clothes akin to what the dock workers wore so they fit in with the clientele. "I talked to some people in the ICPC."_

" _International Criminal Police Commission?" he asked as he recalled the acronym._

 _They had come across a few men from the fledgling commission a few years ago while they were investigating an international crime ring. He had even been questioned by one of the police men while he was working on the docks in Vienna. Thankfully he spoke Italian well enough that he hadn't drawn extra attention and they had managed to keep their cover intact._

" _Yeah," Ron replied. "I met a few of them when we were looking for a witness to a triple homicide. He fled to Italy to avoid being killed before he could testify. They found him for us." He nodded motioning for Ron to continue. "They didn't have anything specifically on a Ziva David. On the surface, she seems clean."_

" _Seems?" he asked._

" _Yeah," Ron replied. "Since the end of the war, she's been traveling the world with her father, Eli. He's bad news, Tony. They can't pin anything on him but they're convinced he's behind the thefts of information and valuables."_

" _A spy?" he asked._

" _For hire," Ron confirmed. He had hesitated a second. "And they're pretty sure he's responsible for a number of mysterious murders that some are calling assassinations."_

" _If she was traveling with her father, then that would explain the rumors I'd heard," he said. "Is her father here in this country?"_

 _Ron shook his head. "I don't know. He's gone off the map. My contacts think that he's lying low – maybe in Amsterdam – after taking out a prominent and well-liked businessman in Cairo. That was two years ago. Miss Ziva David turned up in Chicago a few months later."_

" _And you think she was involved? With her father's business?"_

 _Ron shrugged. "My contacts don't have any evidence connecting either of them to the crimes. Anything they do have is circumstantial."_

" _Circumstantial evidence can add up," he said sensing what Ron was thinking._

" _It can," Ron said as he sipped his coffee. "Especially when those circumstances repeat themselves in seven different cities in seven different countries."_

 _He sipped his coffee. "Just spit it out Ron."_

" _I don't have the evidence to back it up but I'm sure that Ziva David is a killer and a thief. And she's not to be trusted. Are you trusting her with something?"_

" _You know I can't answer that," he replied. Ron frowned. "What about this country? Anything funny happen coincidently with her residence here?"_

" _No. We haven't got anything on her in this country, but it is only a matter of time until we find something," he replied. "It'd be helpful if we knew where she was. Where'd you come cross her? For that matter, where does ONI have you stashed? Last I heard you were in France. You're not in Baltimore again. So, is it Philadelphia? New York?"_

" _I can't tell you that either Ron. It's not a secret if I tell every Tom, Dick and Harry, now is it?" he replied._

 _Ron frowned but nodded._

" _I'll check in with you again, Ron. You find something, you let me know. Ziva is in a potential position to do some damage if she really is the assassin you think she is," he said as he finished his coffee. "Don't ask where. I won't tell you."_

" _So you said," Ron replied dryly._

Ron had been confident and even though he didn't like the man; he didn't have a reason to mistrust him.

"I found some…" He searched for the right word. "Concerning events that coincided with the cities you've lived in."

"You do not believe in coincidences?" she asked coyly.

"No," he replied adamantly. "And not with this many incidents. Seven cities. Seven countries. Seven deaths. All of them with circumstantial evidence pointing towards you." She looked at him. "Was it you or your father assassinating those people? I need the truth or I walk out that door and tell Abby she needs to choose between you or Tim."

Ziva looked at him and he could see that she was weighing her options. Would Abby choose an act that brought people into her club in droves? Or would she choose a man that she potentially loved? He watched as she came to the same conclusion that he had. Singers were a dime a dozen but to Abby, Tim was special.

"There were more than seven," she said to his surprise. "I will admit that I have done things that are against the law. My father…" She hesitated. "My father's business is not a pleasant one, Tony. But it was all that I knew."

"Knew?" he asked catching her meaning.

She smiled sadly. "Your friend Gibbs, he fought in the Great War." He nodded. "I lived through it."

Suddenly, he understood. "You were just a kid when the war started." He had been seventeen when the war had started and twenty when the US entered the war. He had been in college and hadn't joined the army. By the time he had graduated, the war was nearly over.

"I was twelve," she replied. "We were a part of the Ottoman Empire when the war began. At the start, we were a family of five. By the end, only two. My brother Ari fought against the British and was killed at Beersheba. My mother and sister, Tali." Her voice broke slightly. "They were killed in Jerusalem. Tali was only sixteen."

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't have any brothers or sisters but after living with Tim for so long, he was beginning to realize what it was like. She nodded. He looked at her and realized that she had left out a member of her family. "Did your father fight in the war too?"

"My father served as a scout and spy in the war," she replied. "As did I. I joined my father after my mother and sister died." She seemed to be transported back in time. "I helped him gather intelligence until the war ended. After, we could not remain in Palestine. There were too many unpleasant memories."

"So, you two started to travel the world," he said.

She nodded. "My mother always loved my singing. She thought I could have sung in the opera in Paris or Rome. She always liked to think that my voice would take me to see far away countries," she said sadly. "She would not have liked the music I sing now. It is too… unconventional but I have seen the world," she added with a sad smile.

"I think that your mother would have been happy knowing that you are happy," he said.

Ziva looked at him and he could see that she appreciated his words. "I think you are right," she replied softly.

"So, what happened? How did you go from singer to…" He cut himself off. He didn't know what she was or how to pin it to just one word. For that matter, he didn't know if she had participated in her father's unsavory trade.

"To being a spy?" she asked for him. "Life was not easy after the war. Honest work was scarce for my father. I sang to keep food on the table and a roof over our head but it was not much. Eventually my father put the skills he obtained in the war to use for private contracts. The money was welcome and we were able to live comfortably again. Eventually he passed his skills on to me." She frowned.

"You didn't like the work," he said.

She shrugged. "It was all I knew until I met a friend." She smiled fondly at the memory. "Jenny was perhaps my first real friend. She convinced me to leave my father behind. We traveled through Eastern Europe for a time. She insisted that I come to this country and to leave my father behind for good. She gave me my first job in this country and I never felt so free. Always I was living my life according to someone else. Here, in this country, I am able to live how I choose."

"That's what this country is all about," he said. "Home of the free and the land of opportunity."

"It is," she said a hint of happiness creeping back into her voice. "But I do miss my father."

"He is…"

"Still alive and still working," she said. "At least I assume that he is still working. I do not care to find out. I have escaped that life and all of those things are in my past." She looked him in the eyes. "I promise you. I miss the man that my father once was."

He looked her in the eyes and studied her for a moment. Ziva was not lying. He nodded.

"What happened to your friend? Jenny?"

Ziva frowned. "She was killed. In a house fire."

He looked at Ziva. He had a feeling she wasn't being entirely truthful.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe you can tell me about her." He had learned more about Ziva in the span of the last ten minutes than he had in months.

"I would prefer not," she replied. "At least right now."

He nodded. While she wasn't crying, she was emotional and clearly needed a change in topic. "Another day then."

She looked at him and smiled. "Thank you for understanding."

She leaned in to kiss him but he pulled back. She looked at him questioningly.

"Ziva I like you, I really do," he said. "And while your story is a real string-puller…"

"String-puller?" she asked.

"You know," he said. "The heart strings?"

"I thought those were tugged," she said. "But then again, I am often wrong."

He stared at her, wondering how he could reply to that until he realized that it wasn't the point.

"Ziva, I've never been shy with the ladies before and I'll admit that has gotten me into my fair share of trouble," he said. "But if you always do what you always did, you'll always get what you always got." He watched as she worked that out. "In my case, it was a lot of trouble. And right now, I can't afford that kind of trouble."

"Because you are McGee's bodyguard," she said.

"Yeah," he replied. "La Grenouille already sent men after him once. Who knows what would have happened if Tim and I had left when Jimmy left with Michelle?" She frowned. "As pleasant as it would be, I can't afford to be distracted right now."

Ziva looked at him and nodded.

"I understand," she said. "I assure you," she said as she leaned in and kissed him. "When you are ready for a distraction, it will be _very_ pleasant."

He swallowed hard. "I believe you," he said. Ziva smiled sweetly. "I should be going," he said before he changed his mind. He stood up. "I'm looking forward to seeing you sing again."

"I will see you later, Tony," she said.

He nodded and left her dressing room. As he closed the door, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"McGee is gonna owe me big time," he muttered. Taking another deep breath, he decided he needed to take a stroll around the club to clear his head. He checked with Simon at the front door and Gayne at the loading dock, but all was quiet. The crowd was heavier than usual to see the band Abby had booked but otherwise, it was a normal night.

Satisfied with the state of the outside security, he returned to the main room where a quick scan revealed everything to be in order. His partner was present in their usual booth along with a haggard Miss Sciuto.

He watched as his partner leaned back in the booth and took a sip from his drink sighing contently. It had been a long week and they were both grateful to be sitting in _Quicksilver_ with the weekend in front of them. Tim also seemed very content to have a cool beverage, some great jazz, and Abby beside him. Although, now that he looked at her, Abby seemed to have had a worse week than them.

Gibbs joined him and handed him a drink. He smiled at the sight of the icy Mojito.

"Perfect timing and nice choice Gibbs. I didn't know you knew any other drinks other than Bourbon," he said motioning to the glass in Gibbs' hand. Gibbs pointed to the booth. He followed his boss without a word. He certain didn't mention that he saw his boss' pleased smile.

"That bad huh?" Tim asked Abby as they neared the booth.

"You haven't been here all week to see it Tim. So, if by bad you mean busy and booming, then yes, it was bad. I ended up tending bar the last three nights. Stan has been sick," she said. "What a time to have a big-name band booked in my club!"

He glanced over his shoulder at the bar and he could see Stan Burley filling orders. But now that he examined the man closely he could see that Stan did look a little green around the gills.

"I'm sorry," Tim said as he began to message her shoulders. "Geez Abs. You are tight."

Abby groaned. "Damn, Tim. You're giving me goose bumps all the way down to my toes," she said.

"We don't want to know what you two are up to, do we?" he asked as he slid into the booth with Gibbs right behind him.

Abby looked at him and shook her head. "Believe me; I'm too tired for that Tony."

He watched as Tim leaned in and whispered something. If he wasn't mistaken, his partner had said, "I doubt that."

"You're probably right," Abby replied as she put her hand onto Tim's thigh. Tim smiled and he rolled his eyes. "You certainly weren't, Tony."

Blinking in confusion, he looked at her. "Huh? I don't know what you mean?"

"That lipstick really isn't your shade, DiNozzo," Gibbs said dryly.

He quickly pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. He grinned as he saw the lipstick stain the white cloth. "Oh," he said. "It isn't what you're thinking. That didn't happen. Not yet anyway. It was just a kiss. For incentive." Gibbs stared at him. "It didn't work."

He looked at Gibbs.

Gibbs was looking at him reproachfully which told him that his boss didn't believe him when he protested his innocence. Abby had a grin plastered across her face so she didn't believe him. And looking at Tim, he could even see that his normally clueless friend looked skeptical.

"Fine, you don't have to believe me," he said sourly. " _Nothing_ happened. Not that I didn't want something to happen. I mean really. Have you _looked_ at Ziva? Who wouldn't want something to happen with her?"

"What are you waiting for, Tony?" Tim asked.

Gibbs glared at Tim but uncharacteristically, Tim didn't seem fazed by Gibbs' expression. In fact, he seemed amused by it. Perhaps Tim was learning to stand up to their boss.

"I agree," Abby said smiling broadly. "You two kids are good for each other. You really ought to just sleep with her. It'll improve your mood. I mean, look how happy Tim is." Tim choked on his drink. Abby smiled sweetly at Tim who tried to look annoyed with her.

"Hey," Gibbs said sharply. "This isn't going to turn into a bull session."

"Awe," Abby said. "That means I can't tell you about that great thing that Tim does. It's something that _every_ guy ought to know about…"

"Abby," Tim hissed as he flushed bright scarlet. Abby grinned, unabashed.

He made a mental note to ask McGee about whatever Abby might have been talking about. Then he realized how pathetic he must be if he was thinking about asking Tim for advice about sex. Then he realized that for this to be a real bull session that Gibbs would have something to share.

"Wait," he said looking at Gibbs. "So, if you want me to sleep Ziva and Tim and Abby are sleeping together. Then who are you sleeping with Gibbs?" Gibbs turned and stared at him. "It isn't that mysterious redhead I've seen you with on occasion, is it?"

Gibbs stared at him and he got the impression that his answer was no.

"Not her," Gibbs replied icily.

From his tone, he knew that Gibbs was done with this line of conversation. And if he valued his head, he would change the subject.

But it was interesting all the same. Gibbs didn't deny he was sleeping with someone, just not the redhead. Obviously, Gibbs wasn't taking his own advice about not getting involved with a woman while undercover. And now he had a project. He needed to know who Gibbs was pitching woo with.

And it would drive him crazy until he found out.

"The latest batch of names didn't turn up any red flags in the Prohibition Unit or the Bureau," Gibbs said changing the subject as he sipped his Bourbon. His voice was loud enough to be heard in their booth but not outside of it. The crowd noise was just enough to keep their conversation private.

"He's got to be our guy," he said equally quiet. He looked at Tim. "You've spent the last four weeks decoding the ledgers and we haven't found anyone else."

Tim shook his head emphatically. "I don't think so Tony. We talked about this. Some of information can't be coming from Fornell. If he's in the Bureau, this guy is in at the top, probably only a few rungs below Hoover. Fornell isn't that high up."

"He's got a point, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Fornell couldn't have known about that witness and he wasn't in any position to _'find'_ that information."

"So, someone in the top brass is on Napolitano's payroll?" he asked incredulously.

"Seems that way," Gibbs replied. "Or it could be a Prohi with connections to the Bureau's top brass. They might be separate entities but they do work together."

"That means we have two moles," Tim said sourly. "And at least one of them is willing to give up the location of a Bureau safe house."

"Huh?" Abby asked.

"The Bureau has been investigating the uptick in violence between the Frog and Napolitano," Tony replied. "Word is that they picked up someone who knew Naps ordered the hits on La Grenouille's men and he flipped to save his own skin."

"You're kidding?" Abby asked. "Going to jail is safer than flipping on Napolitano."

"I'm sure he knows that now," Tony replied. "At the time, it probably seemed like a good idea."

"They moved him to a safe house," Gibbs said. "But when the agents came to change shifts, they found the bodies of three highly respected G-Men and the witness was missing."

"Who was it?" Abby asked. "The witness."

They looked at Tim. He shrugged. "I'm not certain. Mr. Napolitano's been pretty tight-lipped about it. Whoever it was, he was high up in the ranks."

"Come on, Tim. You don't have any clue who it was?" he asked knowing that his partner had an educated guess. And he'd take on of Tim's educated guesses any day.

Tim shrugged. "I'm not certain but I'm pretty sure it was Frank Pilato."

"Frankie P," he mused. "He was one of Napolitano's lieutenants. He get cold feet?"

"Dunno but I'll bet you he's got cold everything now," Tim said. He examined his partner. Tim spoke about a man's death like he was talking about the weather. For a man who had been bent on rescuing the man who would have killed him, he found it strange. "Or if he doesn't, he probably wished he was dead. It's times like these that Naps keeps Boone on the payroll."

"You know he was given to Boone?" he asked.

Tim shrugged. "Not for sure, but after the safe house was raided, Jimmy was talking with Little Ricky. He told his son that traitors are no better than thieves and should be dealt with accordingly."

"Pretty close to confirmation that he was given to Boone," Gibbs said.

"And now the only witness that could link Napolitano to the murder of La Grenouille's lieutenants in retribution for Grenouille's attempt on _Quicksilver_ is gone and likely dead," Tim said as he sipped his drink.

Abby frowned. "I still can't believe that Napolitano killed eleven men because of my club," she said.

"Too bad one of them wasn't Trent Kort," he muttered as he rubbed his arm. His arm had healed well but it was still sore at times.

"Fifteen men," Tim said.

"How do you get fifteen?" he asked.

"Eleven of La Grenouille's men, three BOIs and the witness," Gibbs supplied. He nodded, his mouth forming a perfect 'o.' "Although you know there were more indirect casualties in the turf war between the Frog and Napolitano." Abby nodded.

"I'm not surprised at all," Tim replied. "Since the _Tin Angel_ closed, _Quicksilver_ has become the crown jewel of Napolitano's night clubs, thanks to Abby's management." She beamed at Tim for his praise of her club. "It's his flag ship. Napolitano couldn't risk Grenouille taking another shot at you, so to speak. He had to make a strong point to Grenouille, to make sure he knew that _Quicksilver_ was off limits."

"And you too," Abby said. "He needed to make sure Grenouille knew you were off limits too." Tim nodded in concession and took a deep drink.

"Should I be worried that you're beginning to think like a gangster, McGee?" Gibbs asked eying him critically.

Tim looked down at his drink, seemingly contemplating the question. Tim had confided to him that he had become disturbingly desensitized to Napolitano's methods of business over the last month. And from his office next to Napolitano, he had been privy to the inner workings of Napolitano's network and his mind.

Still, it was strange to see his young partner becoming acclimated to this brutal business.

"Are you asking if I'm becoming one of them?" Tim asked. Gibbs nodded but he knew the answer before his partner replied. He knew that wasn't the case. Every time something happened, his friend was torn up over it. "Don't worry about that, Gibbs. I've just spent too much time around Mr. Napolitano. I know how he thinks but I still don't like it. I didn't sleep a wink after I heard what happened to the witness."

"I can attest to that," Abby said worriedly as she put her hand on Tim's arm. "Although now I know why."

Tim gave her shoulders a squeeze. He knew that Abby had been a great comfort to his partner this last month.

Tim had been hesitant to trust her after he had admitted that he was a federal agent. They had talked about it and Tim had admitted that he had been right about falling for Abby, that it was dangerous to their mission. And for once, he hadn't felt like gloating. He hated that he had been right and that Tim's true identity would ruin his relationship with Abby.

Tim had tried to push Abby away but day by day, Abby had proved that Tim should trust her that she didn't want to lose him. And little by little, he watched as Tim fell head over heels for her. Abby might not like labels and she might not be the kind of girl to settle down, but that hadn't stopped Tim from falling in love with her.

When he questioned Tim about it, Tim had thought for a minute before he asked if he ever had a best friend that he would do anything for? One that he would give up everything for? One that would do the same for him?

He hadn't answered but he knew what that was like. After living with McGee for five months, he had grown close to his younger partner. They had always been partners during their five years working abroad but now they were friends. He might even label Tim one of the best friends he had ever had. He would do anything for his partner and Tim would do anything for him, including sacrifice their lives for one another.

When he pointed out that he didn't sleep with his best friend, Tim just shrugged and asked if he blamed him. The question had taken him off guard and he had been forced to admit that he couldn't.

"So, what happens to the case now?" Abby asked.

"Well now that their witness is dead," Tim started. "Well, presumed dead."

"So is the case," Gibbs finished. "They've opened an investigation of course."

"Three dead G-men tends to piss off even the agents on multiple payrolls. Napolitano took a gamble with this one," Tim said. "He risks alienating any other members of the Bureau on his payroll."

"If there are any," he interjected.

"They don't want to turn up dead if they piss off Napolitano," Tim finished.

"Well if there are any others on Napolitano's payroll, we haven't found them yet. Local cops, a couple judges and numerous local government employees but no one from the Bureau or the Prohibition Unit. How many more names do you have left, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim shook his head. "Not many. Morrow isn't going to act against Fornell, is he?"

"He doesn't know about Fornell," Gibbs replied to their surprise.

"You didn't give him Fornell's name?" he asked in surprise.

Gibbs shook his head.

"You don't think it's him then," Tim said. "If you did, you would have told Morrow about Fornell."

"I don't know that Fornell isn't the mole," Gibbs said. "That's all I know, McGee. Morrow knows we have a suspect. I told him that much. I managed to hold him off by telling him we wanted an independent confirmation through this list of names."

"You'll tell him who we suspect when red flags pop up," Tony said.

Gibbs smiled slightly. "That's the idea but you better hope we get a hit soon or else we'll have to give up Fornell," Gibbs replied.

"How well do you know Fornell?" Abby asked.

"I don't," Gibbs replied. "When Tim mentioned him when he was recruited, the name was familiar but I couldn't place it. Not until Tony told me about the connection between him and Diane."

"You didn't know your ex-wife had remarried?" Abby asked incredulously.

"I knew that," Gibbs said tightly. "Because I didn't have to pay alimony any more. Didn't know who the poor bastard was though."

"Yeah, but you never asked her?" Abby asked.

"We weren't exactly on speaking terms after the divorce," Gibbs said, clearly uncomfortable.

He hid his smile behind his drink as he met Tim's eye. Tim was trying to hide a smile as well. He had wanted to ask all these same questions and more but after bringing up Diane, he had feared for his head and had cut off the conversation. He might not get away with asking these questions but Abby could.

Suddenly Tim winked and he blinked in surprise. Had his Probie coached Abby to ask the questions they hadn't dared? Tim's small smile told him he was right. He silently lifted his glass to Tim for his ingenuity.

"And before you ask, I'm not planning to talk to her any time soon either," Gibbs said.

"But wouldn't that help get information on why Fornell is working for Napolitano?" Abby asked.

"Or it could get us made," Gibbs retorted. "I wouldn't put it past Diane to turn me in to Napolitano just out of spite." Abby looked surprised and opened her mouth to ask for clarification. "I'm done answering your questions," Gibbs said as he pointed to him and McGee.

"Hey," he said indignantly.

"Can it DiNozzo," Gibbs said curtly. "We've got bigger issues to talk about."

"What's that?" Tim asked concerned.

" _They're_ getting impatient." Tim looked at Gibbs in surprise then glanced at him. He was just as surprised. "Morrow's beginning to think that they don't trust us anymore."

"They think we went native?" he asked with a grin. The thought was amusing. Obviously, _they_ didn't know their team very well.

"Who's ' _they?_ '" Abby asked confused.

"Hoover and the Secretary of the Navy, Charles Francis Adams the third. Aside from Morrow, they're the only ones who know we're under cover," he replied. "What a pretentious name, don't you think?"

"His great-great-grandfather was the second President of this country and his great-grandfather was the sixth, Tony. I think he has a good reason for a pretentious family name," Tim replied drolly.

"Whatever you say McKnow-it-all," he replied rolling his eyes. "Still doesn't explain why they don't trust us."

"Think about it Tony," Tim said looking at him. "You've been under cover for a year and a half and over a year for me and Gibbs. So far, no results. They've got to be wondering if we're still trying to find the mole or if we've given up. You have to admit, we've gotten pretty comfortable in our roles."

"And it doesn't help that we make good money on Napolitano's payroll," Gibbs replied. "McGee makes more in a month than he made in a year at ONI and he's dating the manager of a speakeasy. A fact he hasn't hidden." Tim smiled bashfully as he pulled Abby closer even as Abby protested that they weren't dating. "I haven't provided any new information since McGee got his job and you're making nice with a foreign singer in an illegal club," Gibbs finished, ignoring Abby's protests.

"Ziva and I really aren't dating or anything," he said stammering slightly. "We've just had some really nice conversations." Gibbs glared at him. "Right. Shutting my mouth. I guess I can see how _they_ might think that," he replied. "But Morrow doesn't think we went native, does he? I mean, he knows us!"

"That's why he hasn't pulled us. He trusts us," Gibbs replied. "Besides we're feeding him lists of names. Some of which have very important people on them, which is why he's continuing to allow us to call the shots while he figures out what to with this list."

"He hasn't turned the list over to Hoover yet?" Tony asked surprised.

Gibbs shook his head. "The information Tim unearthed in those ledgers could take down half of Washington. Morrow won't just turn that over at the drop of a hat and certainly not until he has the whole picture."

"But that is why he's defending us to Hoover," Tony mused. Gibbs nodded. "So, he's just looking for a mole right now." Gibbs nodded again. "And he's going to find Fornell."

"I'm certain that it isn't Fornell," Tim said stubbornly.

He stared at his friend. "McGee," he hissed. "We _know_ that Fornell has been passing information on to Napolitano. You know, Prohibition Unit raids, Bureau sting operations and such."

"I know that," Tim retorted. "But he isn't high enough in the Bureau to obtain all of the inside information Napolitano is getting."

"As much as I agree with you, McGee, a gut feeling isn't enough evidence to get Fornell off the hook," Gibbs replied.

"Well can't you test him or something?" Abby asked. They stared at her. "What? Give him something juicy and see what he does with it. If he goes straight to Mr. Napolitano…"

"Then he's our guy," Gibbs said. "But if goes elsewhere he might be square."

"What if he sits on it?" Tim asked as the crowd started to cheer.

He glanced at the stage. The band was back for their second set and Ziva had joined them. She was wearing a deep blue floor-length gown that hugged every curve of her body. She turned around to talk to the band and he saw that there was very little to the back of the dress that plunged to the small of her back.

He knew he was staring, imagining what he had missed out on. The dress was tantalizing to say the least.

Gibbs smacked him upside the head, drawing him back into their conversation.

"Thanks, Gibbs," he said as he reluctantly pulled his eyes from her shapely figure.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Gibbs replied.

"We're going to need help," he said. "We can't let Fornell see us."

"I'll take care of it," Gibbs replied. "But this is going to require careful planning."


	19. Chapter 18 - Test of Loyalty

**Chapter 18 – Test of Loyalty**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

 _Mid-September 1932_

He paced their apartment, waiting for Tony to return. He glanced at the nearest clock and sighed. It could still be hours before Tony returned home. He hated not knowing how their plan was playing out and not for the first time, he cursed the fact that he was now a 'valuable asset' that couldn't be risked.

Tonight was the night. After two weeks of meticulously planning, all the pieces were in place. Gibbs had put the plan into motion earlier this afternoon and now he was forced to wait in their apartment until Tony came home.

They had gotten word to Fornell that there was supposed to be a bureau raid on _Quicksilver_ for tonight and they had given him a location to meet under the guise of a staging location for the raid. If Fornell showed, Gibbs and Tony would pick him up. But if Fornell notified Napolitano about the raid, then they'd pick him up for tipping off Napolitano. Either way, they would find out what a G-man was doing on Napolitano's payroll tonight.

Abby was at _Quicksilver_ , tending to her club but he couldn't afford to be seen by any of Napolitano's men without Tony. To give him a good reason for not being at _Quicksilver_ on a Friday night, he had been pretending to catch a cold. And that had culminated with a spectacular performance earlier that day. After coughing for most of the morning, Napolitano had burst through the door that separated their offices and told him to stop hacking or go home.

He had managed to tone down his coughing only because he had to know whether or not Fornell warned Napolitano. But the afternoon passed and he hadn't any inclination that Fornell had warned Naps. When Naps left the office at four-thirty, he stopped in Tim's office and instructed him to stay home tonight.

" _Are you my father now?" he had asked, his voice rough from all his fake coughing._

" _No," Napolitano had retorted. "I'm your Boss and I don't want you getting me sick." Jimmy looked at him pointedly. "And I don't need you getting worse off because you want to spend more time with that weird bird that runs_ Quicksilver _."_

" _Abby?" he asked as he repressed a cough._

" _Yeah, her," Jimmy agreed. "The woman you've been seeing these last five months in case you've forgotten."_

" _I haven't forgotten. Do you have a problem with me seeing her?" he asked cautiously._

" _After all this time?" Jimmy asked. "You don't think I'd have said something before now if I had?"_

" _I don't know," Tim replied. "I suppose you would have."_

" _Like I said, I'm not your Papa. If I was, I might have a few words to say on your choice of dames." Napolitano laughed suddenly. "I think you've got strange taste in women." Tim chuckled and coughed lightly into his handkerchief. "And since I'm not your father, I say good for you. She must be something in the sack eh?"_

 _He clammed up._

" _Being a gentleman?" Napolitano asked when he didn't reply. "Good for you, my boy. Good for you. Go home. Get some rest. I don't want to hear you coughing again on Monday."_

" _Of course, Mr. Napolitano. Have a good weekend," he said as he returned his attention to his books. He had a few more entries to make before he could leave._

If Napolitano knew that _Quicksilver_ was targeted, he would have warned him to stay away more directly. The last thing Jimmy needed was to have his money man caught up in a wide net cast by the Bureau and he wouldn't want to risk him going to the club even if he wasn't sick.

Not to mention, if Jimmy had known that _Quicksilver_ was going to be raided, Jimmy would have said something to Abby. Abby's club had more than made up for the reduced revenues of the re-opened _Tin Angel's_. Even though the club was open again, it wasn't nearly as popular as it once had been. Even Jimmy had taken to visiting _Quicksilver_ instead of the _Tin Angel_ and he wasn't going to risk losing the crown jewel of his social clubs.

And as of an hour before opening, Abby hadn't been warned either and he wasn't sure how she was going to take it. They had to go through with a raid to truly test Fornell. He had to pray that her security measures worked as they had been designed. The fact that he hadn't received a scathing phone call from Abby had him worried though.

Which left him to pace their apartment, alone.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the morning. Tony should be back by now. He hoped that nothing had gone wrong. After all, Fornell was an armed Federal Agent.

Suddenly he heard a key rattle in the door. Unconsciously, he moved to a safer location and reached for his weapon. He watched as the door opened and a shadowy figured slipped into the apartment. He slipped off the safety with a light click.

"Easy McGee," Tony said. "It's just me."

He let out the breath he had been holding. "Damn, Tony. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he said as he replaced the safety on his pistol and turned on a light. "Why didn't you knock?"

"On my own apartment door?" Tony asked as he shut the door.

He frowned as he realized that didn't make sense to him either. But that wasn't the point. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "I thought you'd be back hours ago."

"So did we. But it took longer than expected to get Fornell to talk," Tony replied. "He couldn't exactly see us, which spooked him."

"I can't imagine why," he said sarcastically.

Tony sighed as he sank onto the couch. He seemed too tired to retort. "It took two hours just to convince him we weren't Napolitano's men." He looked at Tony incredulously. "I know. It's a lot tougher when you actually _are_ one of Napolitano's men. He thought that Naps had put a hit out on him. He thought that we were the goons sent to kill him. Add in the fact that we were hiding in the shadows to keep him from seeing our faces…"

"I see what you mean. No wonder it took so long to convince him otherwise," he replied as he walked over to their small liquor cabinet. But on second thought, he turned his steps to the kitchen and poured a couple glasses of water. He returned to the living room and handed one of the glasses to Tony before he sat down in one of their chairs.

"Thanks," Tony said gratefully as he sipped his water. "Everything went according to plan," Tony said. "He arrived at the meeting point and our people separated him before the raid. They brought Fornell to an abandoned building where Gibbs and I were waiting."

"That couldn't have sat well with Fornell," he said.

Tony snorted. "Of course not," Tony retorted. "What would you think if you were taken to an abandoned building and met with two guys who stayed in the shadows?"

"That I was about to be bumped off," he replied.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "We had a heck of a time convincing him that we were good guys," Tony said as he sipped his water. "And once we did, he clammed up again," Tony said.

"Let me guess, he thought he was being arrested for tipping off Naps," he said as he sipped his drink.

Tony nodded. "Right in one, McGee. He kept asking for a lawyer. He didn't want to say anything incriminating. We kept telling him we weren't arresting him."

"We don't have the power to arrest anyone," Tim retorted.

"I know that," Tony replied. "But we couldn't _tell_ him that. It didn't help that we couldn't give him any information about who we were or why he ought to trust us. We had to be careful. It was obvious from the start that he was sharp as a tack."

"You didn't want to give him enough information to figure out you were undercover because we don't want him investigating us," he inferred.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "For a while he thought we were Grenouille's goons trying to turn him. It took a few choice words about Kort convinced him otherwise." He chuckled. "But that's why it took five hours to get him to talk to us. I'm still not sure he trusts us, but it's a start."

He smiled and sipped his drink. "Pretty impressive considering all the cloak and dagger stuff you had to go through just to talk to him. He never saw your faces?"

Tony shook his head. "He saw a couple of trustworthy navy boys that Morrow handpicked. They're sworn to secrecy and they're shipping out in a few hours. They won't even be able to mail a postcard for the next two months."

"What about Gibbs? Is he convinced that Fornell isn't the mole?" he asked.

Tony shrugged. "I think he's coming around." Tim looked at him, puzzled. "Let's put it this way. Fornell confirmed he isn't high enough in the Bureau food chain to have access to the information that led to that witness getting whacked."

"Like I told you," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know McSmartypants," Tony muttered as he sipped his drink.

"Is he going to help us?" he asked.

Tony looked up at him and replied, "Yeah. He is. Like you said, he's only working for Napolitano because his Ex got into money trouble. She was trying to live a high life and took out a loan from one of Napolitano's sharks. When she couldn't repay in time, Napolitano sent some goons to bust up her place. Scared her so bad, she went to Fornell for help." Tony sipped his water. "I'm not so sure that Fornell would have been so quick to act if not for their daughter. He'd do anything to protect her."

"That confirms what I had suspected," he said as he sipped his water.

"I still can't believe that Jimmy is threatening a little girl," Tony said. "That seems low, even for him."

"I know," Tim mused. "I don't think he wants to do it. Jimmy does have a code of honor." Tony looked at him incredulously. "His definition of honor is different than most people's but he still has a code, Tony. His rules aren't numbered like Gibbs' but he's got rules that he won't break."

"So what's that mean?" Tony asked. "It's a hollow threat?"

"No," he replied as he stood up and started to pace. "Naps does not make hollow threats," he said firmly. "I don't think he'd intentionally harm Fornell's daughter but that doesn't mean he still can't use her as leverage, which is why I think that Fornell has been working with him." He shook his head. "But it's a fine line. If something happens to Fornell's daughter, Naps knows it would backfire on him."

"Fornell wouldn't have anything left to lose," Tony said. He stopped pacing and nodded. "You've talked to Jimmy about this?"

"No," he replied. "As far as I know, he doesn't know I've fully decoded the ledgers. But I've worked next to the man for six months. He might be crass, he might be brutal at times, but he isn't a fool. James Napolitano doesn't make a decision without considering the consequences. And just from the two times I've encountered Fornell, I get the feeling that he's only playing along with Napolitano because he has to. If something happens to his daughter, Fornell will go after Napolitano and he wouldn't wait for a warrant."

Tony looked at him as he thought. He watched silently as his partner thought back to his own encounter with Fornell.

"I don't think you're wrong," Tony said. "And that's concerning. Fornell could be more of a wild card than we had anticipated."

He nodded. "So what's next?"

"For now?" Tony asked. "Nothing. We need to make sure he doesn't go to Napolitano. And we need to know if he goes to his boss at the Bureau. Either one of those could blow up our plan." He nodded. "Once we're sure he's square, we'll move onto the next part of the plan. But we don't need to rush this."

"Why start now?" he asked dryly. "We've been on this mission for a year and a half now."

"We knew this was going to be a long one when we took the job, Tim," Tony said.

"I know," he replied as he retook his seat. He sighed. "I guess I was just beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, you know? I've decoded the ledgers, we know the scope of Jimmy's businesses and I can personally testify about his money laundering and racketeering. But if it isn't Fornell, we don't have the mole that's been protecting Jimmy."

"He's off book," Tony said. He nodded seriously. "We're going to have to systematically test Jimmy's network to figure out who this other mole is."

"That's what I was thinking," Tim replied. "Just like Fornell. We raid his illicit businesses, put a pinch on his bootleggers, and raid his clubs until we figure out who's helping him."

He looked at Tony questioningly.

"Just ask, will you?" Tony asked as he finished his glass of water.

"What happened to _Quicksilver?"_ he asked. "You did check in on them before coming here right?"

Tony nodded. "Of course I did. Blue's guys sighted the cops before they got to the factory. They pulled the pin and kept the patrons in the club until it was all clear. Of course, since they were our boys from the Navy Yard and not real cops, they didn't look too hard for the place."

He nodded knowing that the raid had been a charade but Fornell, Abby and most importantly, Napolitano had to think it was real.

Since the Frog's failed attempt to kidnap him, Abby had put in place extra security. They decided to use that to their advantage to foil a potential raid. It made Abby look good and it also prevented any real damage from being done to one of Napolitano's clubs over an op that was meant to catch Fornell.

"Abby was pissed though." Tony said as he looked at him meaningfully. "She gave everyone a round on the house to make up for their troubles. She's out a lot of good liquor and she didn't even get raided."

"I can only imagine how upset she was, once she realized _Quicksilver_ was safe," he said as he finished his water. "I take it, she realized I wasn't sick."

"Yeah," Tony said snorting.

"Is she pissed because of the liquor or because I didn't warn her about the raid?" he asked. It was a tossup as to which one would make her angrier.

"Both," Tony replied as he finished his drink. "You might want to claim ignorance."

"You're kidding, right?" he asked. "I can't lie to Abby. I've tried. She calls me on it every time. She's almost as good as Gibbs."

"Well then, you're in trouble, Probie," Tony said starting to stand.

"Wait," he said. "Does she know the raid wasn't real?"

"We didn't want to tell her," Tony replied. "Not with a crowd." He closed his eyes and looked toward the ceiling. He was going to be in for it when he finally told Abby the truth. "Yeah," Tony said as he patted his shoulder sympathetically. "You're screwed."

"Yeah," he agreed. "And not in the good way."

"You know, I miss the time where I didn't know anything about your sex life," Tony said.

Opening his eyes, he stared at Tony incredulously. "Oh, like you're one to complain? For five years, I had to listen to you gloat about every Spanish señorita, French mademoiselle, or Italian signorina you slept with! You can dish it out but you can't take it!"

Tony tried to deny it but no words came out of his mouth, just unintelligible sounds.

"You know, I don't need to defend myself to you," Tony said finally. He looked at his partner triumphantly. "Good night, McGee," Tony said pointedly.

"Night, Tony," he said with a smile, pleased that he had finally got one over on his partner.

Tony walked to his room but paused in the doorway. "Tim, if I were you, I would plan one heck of an apology if you ever want to dance the horizontal tango with Abby again."

"What if the horizontal tango _is_ my apology?" he asked.

"Ick," Tony said sourly. "And I'm going to bed," Tony said as he shut his door.

Laughing lightly at his partner, he shut the light off and returned to his room. Tony was right, he would have to plan a special apology. And he'd have to warn Abby that this likely wasn't going to be the last time that they targeted _Quicksilver._

If they were going to be targeting Napolitano's network to find the mole, they couldn't leave out _Quicksilver_ without it being conspicuous. This was going to be a test of their friendship just as much as anything.


	20. Chapter 19 - Crisis

**Chapter 19 – Crisis**

 _Tony DiNozzo_

* * *

 _October 1932_

He woke with a jolt and looked around his darkened bedroom. Something had awoken him from a sound sleep. He didn't know what it was but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up on end.

He rubbed his eyes and checked the time. It was almost four o'clock in the morning. He'd only been asleep for a little over an hour after returning from a night out at _Quicksilver._ Closing his eyes again, he tried to go back to sleep but as soon as he closed his eyes, he knew it was futile. He was wide awake.

He wasn't sure what had woken him. Had it been a dream? Nightmare? Sixth sense?

Whatever it was, he wasn't going to get back to bed without checking their apartment.

Sliding out of bed, he grabbed his weapon from his bedside table and checked it. Padding through the darkness, he slipped out of his bedroom and walked over to the window. Pulling back the curtain slightly, he glanced outside. The streets were wet again and the only cars on the road were the ones parked on either side of the street. The only movement came from a few fallen leaves that were skittering down the road in a light breeze.

Leaving the living room, he made his way to the kitchen and checked the window to the fire escape. It was still secure and the small mirror he had set up showed him that no one was on the fire escape below their apartment. Satisfied, he walked back to the living room and was going to go back to bed when he decided to take one last look outside.

This time when he pulled back the curtain, a car was traveling towards their building and as he watched, it pulled into an open parking space. The headlights turned off and a dark figure stepped out of the rear passenger seat. A moment later, a pair of men got out of the car, one of them was checking a weapon. The first figure waved them off and they reluctantly returned to the car. At this distance and in the dark, he couldn't tell who the men were but he knew it couldn't be anything good.

Gut churning, he left his room and hurried to Tim's. He listened for a moment to make sure nothing was going on that he didn't want to interrupt without knocking first. When he heard nothing, he opened the door and entered the dark room. Tim and Abby were both asleep.

 _Not for long_ , he thought. "McGee, wake up." He roughly shook Tim's shoulder to wake him and hastily backed away as Tim's arm snaked out from under the covers towards his weapon. "Hey," he hissed as he pulled it out of Tim's reach. "I need that."

"Tony? Jeez," Tim said collapse back onto his pillow in relief as Abby woke and pulled the covers up a little higher. "You shouldn't wake me up with a gun in hand. I could have shot you."

"With what?" he asked puzzled.

"This," Tim replied as he pulled a revolver out from under his pillow with his right hand. He smiled with pride.

"What's going on?" Abby asked her voice heavy with sleep.

"Someone is coming into our building," he replied.

"You woke me up to tell me that someone is coming into our building?" Tim asked incredulously. "Tony, we live in a large apartment building. It was probably one of the other tenants."

"The other tenants in our building don't come with a pair of goons packing heat," he said. "And I have a bad feeling."

Tim nodded and slipped out of bed. Thankfully his partner wasn't naked although like him, Tim was only in his shorts even though the weather had turned colder.

"Stay here, Abs," Tim said as he traded his small revolver for his pistol from the bedside table.

"Cover me," he said. They left Tim's bedroom and Tim pulled the door shut. Tim took up a position in the bathroom door while he padded over to the door and glanced through the peep hole. In the faint hall light, he watched as a man stepped off the elevator and started towards their apartment.

The man was portly and he had a suspicion he knew who was coming to pay a call but he wasn't sure. It was tough to see through the blurry peep hole.

He motioned to Tim to be ready. He couldn't see Tim's response but he trusted that Tim was prepared.

Suddenly someone started to knock on the door. A moment later, the polite knock turned into pounding.

"Who's there?" he asked cautiously.

"Your mother," a familiar voice replied. "Open up, DiNozzo."

He turned and looked at Tim who had stepped into the hall. In the faint light from the street lights, he watched as Tim glanced at the dining table. He followed his partners gaze and recalled that Tim had cleared up his copy of the books before leaving for _Quicksilver_ last night. Tim nodded at him.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open as Tim entered the living room and turned on a light.

"What's with the pistol?" Napolitano asked as he entered their apartment. Jimmy glanced at him then at Tim and the weapons in their hands.

"I get a little nervous when someone tries to bang down the door at four in the morning," he retorted as he shut and locked the door.

Napolitano looked at Tim. "So, what's your excuse?"

"I get nervous when he gets nervous," Tim replied as Abby entered the living room, tying up her black robe. She had evidently decided it was safe to join them after she recognized Napolitano's voice.

Napolitano looked at Abby then at Tim. "I didn't realize you had company."

"You practically knocked down my door at four in the morning. I don't think that you particularly care either," Tim retorted. Jimmy snorted and shook his head. Tim replaced the safety and transferred the weapon to his right hand, holding it by the barrel. It was a small motion but it showed that Tim trusted Jimmy.

Tim might be at ease with Napolitano but he wasn't so trusting. He didn't have his finger on the trigger, but the safety was still off. In the seven months since they had lived in this apartment, Napolitano hadn't stopped by once. He couldn't help but be suspicious that Jimmy was here now and his only consolation was that Jimmy had left the muscle in the car. Chances were good that Jimmy wasn't here to personally bump off McGee.

But he wasn't going to take any chances.

When Jimmy didn't say anything, Tim asked, "I take it that there is some business you wanted to discuss that couldn't wait until Monday?"

"I didn't drop by for tea," Napolitano retorted.

"Give me a moment to get dressed," Tim said as he returned to his room with Abby on his heels.

After Tim had gone, Jimmy looked at their apartment appreciatively. Given the quality of the furnishings in the apartment when they arrived, they hadn't replaced any of the furniture. But they had filled it with their things. He had acquired a few posters from various films that he had enjoyed. Those were framed and hung on their walls. Tim had filled their shelves with dozens of records of famous jazz musicians and a fancy gramophone stood on a side table near the windows.

"Nice place," Jimmy said off-handedly.

"We're attached to it," he said, making sure to use a thicker Italian accent.

Fortunately, Tim returned now wearing pants and an undershirt, saving them both from making any more small talk. He could just see Abby lurking in the shadows just beyond Napolitano's eyesight. "What do you need, Mr. Napolitano?"

But instead of responding, Jimmy started to pace their living room. He wondered what Naps was thinking since something was bothering the larger man. He looked like he was arguing with himself, almost as if he was uncertain about what he was doing. He glanced at Tim but a subtle shake of his partner's head told him that Tim was clueless as he was.

"Can I get you a drink?" Tim asked. "I don't keep much on hand. We have some wine, a little beer." Jimmy shook his head. "Or perhaps some coffee?"

"Only if you put some whiskey into it," Jimmy retorted.

"I don't care for whiskey," he replied. "I prefer scotch and putting that into coffee would be a waste." Jimmy chuckled. "But we're out of scotch at the moment. We do have a bottle of a Russian spirit. Vodka and tonic?"

"Sure, sure," Naps said nodding. "I need to talk to you. And I'd like it better if DiNozzo put some clothes on."

He looked at himself. He was only clad in his shorts. Tim nodded.

"Sure." Tim looked at him and motioned for him to do as Jimmy asked.

Reluctantly, he nodded. He quickly returned to his room and pulled on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. He hesitated a moment before he grabbed his shoulder holster and tucked his weapon inside. When he returned to the living room, Jimmy was gone and Tim was speaking softly to Abby. She looked nervous and only reluctantly returned to bed.

"I'll keep an eye on things," he said as he pointed between the door and the front street. Tim nodded.

Tim took a bracing breath and walked through the living room. He watched through the open doors as Tim poured two drinks while Napolitano paced in the dining area. He repressed a smile as he watched Tim pour the drinks. One was mostly vodka and the other was mostly tonic water.

Tim motioned for Napolitano to take a seat at their table but Jimmy continued to pace the length of the dining room. Tim watched him for a moment before he said, "The plans for Abby's big Halloween party Monday night are coming along nicely. Word is it'll be the biggest costume party in the city. Abby had to restrict it to invitations only." Napolitano nodded absently. "It's already sold out."

"Sounds great," Jimmy said, clearly not hearing a word of what Tim had said.

"You should see my costume," Tim continued. "It has these tight red leather pants."

"Can't wait to see it," Jimmy said.

He looked at Tim and mimed being sick. Tim frowned.

"Mr. Napolitano, I can see you're preoccupied since you haven't heard a word I've said," Tim said firmly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Jimmy stopped his pacing and looked at Tim. "Forgive me, Tim," Jimmy said as he sipped his drink. "I have a lot on my mind."

"I can see that," Tim said. "I'm happy to help you in any way I can."

"I know," Jimmy replied as he began to pace again. "You've been more than helpful since you came on in March. You quickly proved what I knew to start: that you were the best man for the job."

"I'm glad I lived up to your high expectations," Tim said clearly pleased at the praise.

"Not just lived up to them," Jimmy said. "You exceeded them! Take what happened after the _Angel_ was raided. With your suggestions, we hardly skipped a beat. And now that the _Angel_ is back, we're doing better than ever."

Tim sipped his drink. "I only made suggestions that I thought would help. I'm glad they did."

"That wasn't the only time you saw a way to improve things," Jimmy said. "And that's why I'm here. I need to talk to someone," Jimmy replied softly so that he almost didn't hear what Jimmy was saying. Of course, it made it harder since he was trying to look like he wasn't listening in on their conversation. "To someone I trust. Things happened and I need to talk it out. But with what happened, I don't trust nobody."

"Nobody?" Tim asked in surprise. "Not even Ricky?"

"No," Jimmy said seriously. "Not even my son."

"But you trust me?" Tim asked slowly.

He had a feeling he knew what had happened although he was surprised that it had happened so soon.

They had run through the list of names in Napolitano's ledgers but hadn't found anyone on the payroll from the Bureau except for Fornell. But after six weeks of clandestine meetings with Fornell, none of them, including Gibbs, believed that Fornell was their guy.

Which meant that he had been right. Jimmy was playing his cards close to his vest and probably took care of paying the mole personally and definitely off book. So, they had to figure out the identity of the mole the old-fashioned way: through gathering evidence, narrowing the list of suspects and discovering his identity by deduction.

But with a network as broad and as deep as Napolitano's, it wasn't going to be easy. Good thing for them, they had McGee. Complicated deductions, data analysis and puzzle-solving were right up Tim's alley. If anyone could find a way to ferret out the mole, it would be his partner.

Over the past six weeks and with Fornell's help, they had narrowed the list of potential moles within the Bureau and Prohibition Unit. They were going to run some tests to help narrow that list even further and he knew that those tests involved raids on various pieces of Napolitano's network.

Tim had given Gibbs a list of targets but they had turned over the timing of the next stage to Gibbs. For one, they didn't want to know if a raid was coming so they could plead ignorance. But also, they trusted Gibbs' gut and that he would well-time the raids.

One or more of those raids must have happened this past weekend.

Napolitano stopped and looked at Tim. "I do and I think that you realize that I don't offer my trust lightly especially after what happened with your predecessor."

"I know," Tim replied. "It is one thing to trust me with your books but it is quite another to come to me for advice in the middle of the night."

"It is," Jimmy said seriously. "Of course, you're wondering why I turned up on your doorstep at this hour."

Tim smiled slightly. "The thought did cross my mind."

"Of course it did," Jimmy said with a laugh. "Some things have happened and I need to talk it out with someone I trust. Someone I know who isn't greedy or wants a piece of me. I need to talk to someone who doesn't have a dog in this fight."

"Did someone within your network attempt to overthrow you?" Tim asked in alarm.

He held his breath while he waited for Napolitano to reply. It was tough enough worrying about the Frog and the law. What if he had to worry about an internal civil war with Jimmy's people?

"Naw," Jimmy said sipping his drink. "If it were just that, I wouldn't be so worried. I've had my fair share of men who thought they could overthrow the king and I know how to deal with them. They get the same treatment traitors get."

Tim relaxed and he did the same.

"No, what I need now is someone who is fair and impartial," Jimmy continued. "Someone with an analytical mind who isn't in it to make a buck for himself. That's you." Tim looked surprised. "I trust you because you don't seem the material type, Tim. You don't seem like you need much. You have a good home, food on the table and a good woman. You aren't greedy."

"It's all a man should want from life," Tim said cautiously.

He didn't disagree with Napolitano. It was all that a man should want and he knew that his partner was extremely happy right now. They had a good home, they didn't want for anything and Abby was the best thing that had happened to his partner in his life. Of course, they would be happier if they didn't have to worry about their cover being blown and being killed in some horrific manner. And he knew that Tim still took it to heart every time something he did led to someone's death.

"It should be," Jimmy said pointedly. "I was never happier than when my wife, God rest her soul," Jimmy said as he crossed himself. "Was alive. I had my wife by my side, my boy and my business was successful. But there are men out there that aren't like you and me, Tim. Greedy men and unfortunately my business breeds them. I'm afraid to say that my son is one of them."

"Ricky?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, Ricky," Jimmy said. "You see, I encourage competition among my lieutenants. It can be healthy plus if everyone is putting in their best efforts, we all win." Tim nodded in understanding. "But when Ricky steps on Victor Flores' toes because he wants to one up the gambling parlors, it'll help Ricky but it'll hurt Victor."

"And the bottom line suffers," Tim inferred.

"Exactly!" Jimmy said as he began to pace again. "And when Ricky's brothels ain't doing so well and he needs some extra cash, I might not have it. He'd rather throw Victor under the bus to make himself look better. Victor and the others aren't any better."

"I can see how that would be frustrating," Tim agreed as he looked through the doors at him.

He shrugged. He had no idea where Jimmy was going with this either. But at four in the morning, a mostly ossified Italian mafioso wasn't going to make much sense to anyone.

"It's also why I can't trust Ricky enough to talk to him about what happened," Jimmy said. "That's also not to mention that he's got about as much business sense as a box of rocks. That's why I put him in charge of the brothels. He can't do much damage there since they have their own managers."

Tony mentally translated managers to pimps and madams as he moved to the front window to check the street below.

"Although Ricky does have a bad habit of sampling the merchandise," Napolitano continued, swaying slightly on his feet. "He's been going 'round with this girl Tiffany. Good thing his mother has passed, it would kill my wife to know our son was sleeping with a cheap prostitute."

Realizing that they had gone off topic, he cleared his throat.

Tim looked at him then at Jimmy. He nodded, indicating that he realized they had strayed. He nodded in return, knowing that Tim would bring them back to task.

"Wait, DiNozzo can hear us?" Jimmy asked.

Tim walked to the doors and looked at him. "Did you have something to add Tony?" Tim asked.

"Huh?" he asked playing dumb. "Nah, Tim. Had a tickle in my throat. Did you need something? I was watching the tenant from number seven stagger home. I didn't think you were talking to me so I wasn't listening."

"No, I think we're fine," Tim replied, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Rule number seven. Always be specific when you lie. "Even if he was paying attention, you can trust Tony, Mr. Napolitano. He can keep a secret with the best of them."

Jimmy looked at him and he nodded before he returned his attention to the street.

"So, what happened?" Tim asked as he mulled over the information that Jimmy didn't trust his own son. That could be useful. Or dangerous. Especially if Little Ricky didn't take too kindly to his father taking someone else like Tim into his confidences. "Since I doubt you're here to complain about your son's choice of girlfriends."

"The Feds," Napolitano said bitterly as he picked up his drink and downed half of it in one swallow. Tim sighed and sipped the drink before sitting down. "Hoover's boys had a good weekend. Between them and the police they raided four clubs, two gambling parlors, three brothels and they took down one of my suppliers. It would've been worse if I didn't have people strategically located within the system."

"Did they raid any of Grenouille's clubs?" Tim asked as his eyes widened in shock. Naps shook his head. "So, you're being targeted," Tim said. "This wasn't a generalized sweep."

Napolitano snorted. "Of course I'm being targeted!" he said loudly. So loudly, in fact, that he jumped slightly. Napolitano glanced at him then lowered his voice. "I'm the BOI's dream bust in this city! And if not them, the Prohis would be happy to have my head too! Grenouille isn't big enough in this city to concern the Feds yet. But if they continue to target me, he'll get bigger. You'd think that they'd prefer an American businessman to some slimy Frenchman."

Tim wisely decided that it probably wasn't the best time to point out that Napolitano was Italian by birth as he would have done. And that was why Tim was in the position he was. Tim knew when to hold his tongue. He didn't. His smart mouth had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. Then again, he also used his mouth to get himself out of trouble on numerous occasions too. It was a double-edged sword.

"So, you came here to ask me for advice?" Tim asked. "On how to run your business?" Jimmy nodded. "At four in the morning?"

"I know," Jimmy said. "I know. And I promise I'll make it up to you for interrupting your special time with that weird bird of yours." Tony glanced at Tim's bedroom door. He could have sworn he heard an indignant retort from Abby. "But like what happened when the _Angel_ was raided, quick action can stem the bleeding," Jimmy said. "And you know more about my business that even I do."

"Oh," Tim said hastily. "I don't know about that," Tim replied. Jimmy looked at Tim meaningfully. "I know a lot Jimmy. But there are still things about your business I don't know. But perhaps if we work together, we can try to limit the damage. If there's a pattern to the raids we'll find it. And if someone isn't doing their job and warning you, we'll figure it out."

"Good," Jimmy said as he finished his drink. "I knew I could count on you, my boy."

"Ok. Let me get some paper and a pen and we can work this out," Tim said. "And perhaps a refill? Four clubs, two gambling parlors, three brothels and a bootlegger is a lot but I'll bet we can limit the damages."

Napolitano nodded as he held out his empty glass. "You're right, Tim. No sense getting worked up about this. Now is the time to remain calm."

"Right," Tim said as he stood and collected Napolitano's glass. Tim set it on their liquor cabinet where he would refill it in a moment.

As Tim entered the living room, he met his partner's eye. He couldn't say anything but after living together for seven months and working together for so long, he knew what Tim was thinking. Jimmy taking Tim into his confidence was both good and bad. It meant that Jimmy didn't suspect that Tim wasn't what he pretended to be. He trusted Tim fully.

But it also increased the risk. If they put too much pressure on Jimmy and his lieutenants knew Tim had Jimmy's ear, they could blame Tim for their losses. And that meant they would be at risk from Jimmy's people too. The stakes had just gone up.


	21. Chapter 20 - Faith

**Chapter 20 – Faith**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

 _December 23, 1932_

"So, what's the damage?" Jimmy asked as he rubbed his hands over his bald head.

"Do you really want to know?" Tim asked. Jimmy looked at him in manner very similar to Gibbs. Tim sighed and relented. "With the shipment from last night, we might not run dry this weekend. Whoever tipped us off did us a favor."

"A favor?" Jimmy asked incredulously. "How can you call that a favor if we still might run dry this weekend? It's Christmastime. Time for making merry. How can people make merry if they have nothing to drink?"

"Well unless you can find another supply line in the next few hours, people will have to make due," Tim said sharply as he leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. After staring at inventory sheet after inventory sheet, he had developed one hell of a headache. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you Jimmy."

Jimmy snorted and waved him off, indicating that he took no offense as he leaned back in his own chair. Jimmy had pulled his chair from his office next to his desk as they examined the latest damage caused by the Prohibition Unit's raids on his clubs and liquor supply lines. Every week it seemed like they were struggling to plug another hole but lately they were taking on water faster than they could bail.

Ever since the first raid at the end of October, Napolitano had relied on Tim more and more. It had been a gradual evolution from his position as bookkeeper but now, two months later, he had taken on a role that closely amounted to Jimmy's full-time partner. He knew it. Jimmy knew it. Little Ricky knew it. But no one seemed to want to talk about it.

He knew that being Jimmy's number one confidante made his position all the more tenuous. In addition to worrying about blowing his cover, he had to watch out for a jealous son and men eager to make points with Ricky. Between Gibbs and Tony, they had heard grumblings from Ricky's circle of friends. So far, it hadn't amounted to anything more than a few bruised egos. That was largely due to the current climate in the Napolitano network. There were bigger problems to worry about than who had Jimmy Napolitano's trust.

"At least, this shoddy weather might do us a favor and keep people home," Tim said. "Less people to consume our smaller supplies of liquor."

"This shoddy weather is partially to blame for our short supplies of liquor," Napolitano said snorting. "A two-day blizzard means nothing moved for a week until the roads were finally cleared. It didn't help our strained supply lines one bit."

He nodded in concession.

They had been hit by a snow storm earlier this month that had been one for the ages. Over a foot of snowfall in one day had crippled the city. He and Tony had stayed holed up in their apartment for two days straight before they trekked to _Quicksilver_ to check in on Abby and the club, which aside from being closed due to lack of patrons and lack of staff, had fared well. Being closed for another two days and sparse crowds for the following two days had really hurt her bottom line though.

"It seems like every time we find a leak, two more spring up," Napolitano muttered interrupting his thoughts. "No one person has access to all of this information."

Tim nearly bit his tongue. That wasn't exactly true. Both he and Napolitano had access to the entire operation. After decoding the ledger detailing Jimmy's bribes, he had decoded the other ledgers for the other business lines. Worse yet, Jimmy knew it.

Jimmy had figured out that he had decoded the ledgers earlier this month when he had suggested cutting payments to specific police officers in an area where his clubs had been closed by raids. Thankfully, Jimmy had been amused and impressed rather than worried. And thankfully Jimmy had accepted his excuse for not telling him he had sorted out the ledgers. He had claimed that he hadn't felt the need to boast and that it would be better for him to just do the job Jimmy paid him to do. Luckily, Jimmy liked his humility and hadn't questioned him further on the topic.

So far as he could tell, Napolitano didn't seem to suspect him. Perhaps that was because they had made sure to include _Quicksilver_ on their raids too. They had hoped that Jimmy would think that he wouldn't turn in his girlfriend's business to the law.

 _Quicksilver_ had avoided raids due to well-planned prevention measures that didn't involve bribing local police, which had proved problematic with Jimmy's other properties. To an outsider, it looked like Abby was a savvy business owner who knew how to protect herself from G-men. Of course, it didn't hurt that she happened to have a source with inside information.

"Well at least it isn't just us," Tim replied as he replaced his glasses. They had also pointed the Bureau and Prohibition Unit in the direction of several of Grenouille's assets just to even out the score. "Grenouille was hit hard this weekend too. The BOIs got three of his clubs including a top tier, _The Black Rose_."

"Good," Jimmy said. "The only one who seems to be doing well is that bird of yours. Sciuto and her club _Quicksilver_. She won't share her secret supplier?"

Tim shook his head. "No and I don't blame her. With all the bootleggers that have been taken down, it's probably a good idea to keep this one to herself. _Quicksilver_ has been busier than ever given all of the clubs that have closed down or run dry."

Two weeks after starting their campaign, they had cut _Quicksilver's_ supply of booze without warning Abby.

Abby stopped talking to him for three days. At first, he had been afraid that he had destroyed their friendship but then he found out that her lack of communication was due to her frantic search for a new supply line not connected to Napolitano. Abby knew that Naps was going to be a target so she took him out of the equation. Luckily, Jimmy was happy as long as _Quicksilver_ continued to bring in the money.

After she found a new supply line, she questioned the three of them. She wanted to know why they had targeted her. He, Tony and Gibbs had patiently explained why it had been necessary, that if it seemed like they were favoring her that Napolitano might suspect Tim wasn't who he said he was. When they were done, she had grudgingly agreed with them although Tim could tell that she was still upset.

Up until then, the raids hadn't impacted her club much. The failed raids had been minor annoyances. Cutting her supply lines had upped the stakes for _Quicksilver_ and proved to be the first real test of Abby's loyalty to them and their mission to take down Naps. But she didn't rat them out to Napolitano and even though she was upset, she remained committed to helping their cause.

Suddenly Jimmy stood up which drew him out of his memories.

"She's had some shrewd ideas, Tim, my boy," Jimmy said as he started to pace. "We'd be much worse off if not for her 'security' measures."

Tim nodded. It was only natural that Jimmy would implement some of her security measures at some of his higher profile clubs. And he knew that it was in their best interest to let them work. They had been careful and calculating as they systematically dismantled Napolitano's network. So far, his plan was working. They were taking out pieces of Jimmy's illegal empire and Jimmy didn't suspect that he was the man behind it all.

"Yeah well, we can improve our security all we want," Tim said as he sat up. "But until we find out how the G-men seem to know more about us than we do, we're going to continue bleeding money like Great Falls."

"You don't think I know that?" Jimmy asked hotly. "If things keep up, I'll be out of business before spring gets here."

He looked at Jimmy and weighed his options. Deciding to risk it, he sighed. "I don't think that there is any other explanation for it," he said. "Someone has betrayed you Jimmy. Either it is someone on the payroll or someone you're paying to look the other way."

Napolitano stopped his pacing for a moment and looked at Tim. They looked at each other, each trying to read the other. He knew suggesting a mole to Jimmy was risky since _he_ was the mole. But it might also be a way to ferret out who Jimmy was bribing off book.

"The thought has crossed my mind, Timothy," Jimmy replied seriously. "And it isn't a pleasant one."

"I didn't say that it was," he said as he put down his pen. He looked around at the books. "There are a number of people who want to take you down, Jimmy."

"I know it, kid. You don't get this far in this business without thinking of this sort of thing," Jimmy replied. "Especially since some of my business practices have bred resentment." He nodded. Blackmail and murder tended to upset even the most mild-mannered people. It wouldn't be surprising if someone had tried to seek revenge by taking Jimmy down. "Problem is: I think I know who it might be."

Tim examined Jimmy critically but he knew better than to ask. If Jimmy wasn't willing to supply the information without asking, then Tim didn't need to know.

"I'll see to it Tim," Jimmy said after a moment. "No need for you to ruin your holiday with this unpleasant business. Speaking of, you have any plans for Christmas? Spending time with family?"

Tim shook his head bitterly. He hadn't spoken with his father in a year and a half, not since he had been disowned. His mother had sent him a few notes with a small sum of money and pleas to come home. But even those had stopped months ago. Going undercover had meant that he had to essentially break ties with his family.

His sister had been the most supportive since she didn't know why he had been fired from ONI. He had visited her several times since he had been hired by Napolitano. He had worn his oldest suit and concocted some story about odd jobs and a new apartment in a bad neighborhood that she should avoid at all costs and that she shouldn't worry; he was getting by. He wasn't sure that she believed him but for once she didn't ask too many questions.

"My father disowned me after ONI fired me. My sister still talks to me but she has gone home to visit my family in California. I'm on my own for Christmas, but you knew that," he said.

Napolitano looked at him and nodded. "I did. And I'm sorry. Family is important especially at Christmas time." He nodded in agreement. Jimmy looked at him sympathetically. "I tell you what. You want, you can come with me. I'm leaving tonight for New York to spend the next week with family. You're one of us," Jimmy said. "You've shown me that."

In spite of the fact that he had been invited to spend the holidays with a mobster's family, Tim was touched by the sentiment. Jimmy had made the invitation honestly.

"Thank you, Jimmy. That means a lot to me. Truly," he replied sincerely. "But I've made plans with Miss Sciuto. Her family is in New Orleans and she isn't going home either. We're going to spend the day together," he replied.

Jimmy nodded and replied, "Well there's a present I wouldn't mind unwrapping on Christmas morning," he said.

Tim tactfully ignored Jimmy's crass comment. It seemed like Jimmy could change from a gentleman to a cad at the drop of the hat. And the way he acted changed depending on who he was with. He was sure that Jimmy changed his behavior to best suit his goals. If a cad would get the best result, Jimmy would be a cad. If he needed to be suave and genteel, Jimmy could lay on the charm with the best of them.

But when Jimmy made comments to him like that, he was pretty sure that Jimmy did it just to get a rise out of him. It was part of Jimmy's less charming sense of humor. But after dealing with DiNozzo's wit for so long, he had the willpower to not take the bait.

When he didn't reply, Jimmy smiled and said, "I don't blame you for taking her up on her offer instead of mine. I'd prefer the company of a beautiful dame to me too." He chuckled and nodded in agreement. "So, I gather that you are going to her shindig at _Quicksilver_ tonight then."

Tim nodded. If there was a holiday that Abby liked more than Halloween, it was Christmas. She had been planning the Christmas party since Thanksgiving and it was set to be just as big of a bash. He was eager to see what she had in store.

"How's she look for liquid refreshments?" Jimmy asked.

" _Quicksilver_ is well-stocked," Tim replied. "After those first raids, Abby started laying in extra stores for a rainy day." He picked up _Quicksilver's_ balance sheet. "That's why her profits haven't been as high as one might expect, considering the uptick in business."

"She used her extra profits to buy extra booze," Jimmy said impressed. "How much has she got on hand?"

"To be honest," he said. "I'm not sure. But I'm certain she's not willing to sell to your other clubs." Jimmy frowned. "I think she's worried that she might lose her current supplier."

"Given current trends, she might not be wrong," Jimmy said. "Her party sounds like a good time," Jimmy said. "I'm sorry I'm going to miss it."

"You're not going?" he asked surprised. "Miss Sciuto said that you were."

"I was but now I need to address several issues personally before I leave town," Jimmy replied. He nodded, knowing that Jimmy was at the least going to address their mole issue before he left. "And I moved up my departure time. I'm taking the _Pennsylvania Limited_ out tonight. I'm feeling the need to get out of town. I need to get away from business for a little while. Which you should too. You've been working far too much these last few months."

He looked down at the papers on his desk. He _had_ been working longer hours since the raids began two months ago. And in truth, he was exhausted but he had no one to blame but himself. He was making his job as Jimmy's accountant harder by directing all those raids.

"I only hope that my hard work has helped," he said. He looked down at the ledgers. "Although given our troubles, it's hard to believe it."

"Don't sell yourself short, Tim my boy," Jimmy said as he patted his shoulder encouragingly. "I'm certain we'd be far worse off without you here."

He winced with guilt. He was certain _that_ wouldn't have been the case. Thankfully, Jimmy was standing behind him and hadn't seen his expression.

"When are you going to her party?" Jimmy asked.

"As soon as I finish here," he replied masking his emotions before he looked up at Jimmy.

"Then consider yourself finished, Timothy. It's been a long day," Napolitano said as he patted his shoulder once again. Jimmy then crossed the room and opened the door to his office. "Clear up and then go have yourself a good time," Jimmy said as he grabbed his chair. "You've earned it. We'll pick up where we left off when I get back next week."

"Yes, Mr. Napolitano," he replied as Jimmy dragged his chair back into his office.

He began to clear up the books but hadn't gotten far when Jimmy re-entered his office, this time pulling on his overcoat.

"Is there something else, Mr. Napolitano?" he asked as he looked up.

"Yeah, I've been thinking," Jimmy said. "Since I'm going to be out of town for the week, I need someone to keep an eye on things. You know, deal with any problems that might come up. Make any decisions that can't wait." He looked at Jimmy wondering what he was going to say next even though, deep down, he knew. "You'll keep an eye on things while I'm gone?"

"Of course, Mr. Napolitano," he replied. He unconsciously sat up a little straighter. "I'll contact you if something should require your attention."

Jimmy waved his hand. "No need, Tim my boy. I'll see that my associates are aware that they should come to you with any issues until I return. I trust that you'll take care of anything that comes up."

Tim replied, "Of course, Mr. Napolitano."

"Happy Christmas," Jimmy said. "Give my regrets to Miss Sciuto. I am sorry that business will keep me from her party. I was looking forward to it."

"I will," he said. "I'm sure that Abby is sorry that you won't be able to attend."

Jimmy nodded and started to leave his office. "Mr. Napolitano," he said stopping the portly man. "Jimmy," he said. "I had intended to give this to you tonight at Miss Scuito's party. But since you won't be in attendance." He reached into his drawer and pulled out a bottle. "It isn't much but I thought you might like a taste of home."

Jimmy walked over to him and took the bottle.

"Stravecchio Branca," Jimmy said as he looked at the bottle. The label was in Italian. "You get this all the way from Italy?" He nodded. "Bottled in aught five and cask aged for twenty-five years." Jimmy looked at him. "Long before you were a glint in your papa's eye. But not perhaps mine!" He looked at Jimmy questioningly. "Eighteen eighty birthed this brandy and yours truly."

"I didn't know that," he said trying to keep his expression neutral. "A happy coincidence."

"Haven't you been telling me since you've worked for me that there ain't no such thing?" Jimmy asked. He shrugged causing Jimmy to laugh. "Thank you, Timothy. Don't think I don't know the difficulty it must have taken to acquire this bottle." Jimmy looked at it longingly but then shook his head. "Put it in my desk. We'll toast the new year and better fortunes when I return. I want to share the first glass of this special bottle with you. I'd prefer to do it now but my time is limited. I have too much to do before my train leaves tonight."

"I understand," he replied as he took the bottle back. "I'll look forward to sharing a glass with you," he replied as he took the bottle back. Jimmy nodded and left. "Happy Christmas, Jimmy," he replied hastily.

After he heard Jimmy say goodbye to Miss Stegman, he hurried to clean up his desk. After the books were sorted and replaced appropriately on the shelf or in the safe, he hastily pulled on his coat and scarf. He placed the bottle of brandy into Jimmy's desk and pulled on his hat.

Walking down the hall, he paused at the small sitting room. Tony was the only one inside.

"We done here, McGoo?" Tony asked as he looked up from his paper. "I saw Jimmy leave."

"Yeah," he replied. "We're done."

"About time!" Tony said as he slammed the paper down on the table and stood up. "The party started hours ago."

"I know," Tim said tiredly. "But it couldn't be helped," he said as Tony started to pull on his coat. "I was helping Mr. Napolitano to sort out supply issues."

"I see," Tony said as he led the way out of the empty office, locking the door as they left since they were the last ones in the office. Miss Stegman must have bolted out of the office practically on Jimmy's heels. He pulled his coat closer as he followed Tony outside and down the street. Their car was parked nearby but it was far enough that they had to bow their heads against the sleet. When they entered the car, they shook off the slush and shivered. "Seems like we'll have a white Christmas," Tony said as he started the car. "Unless it suddenly decides to get warm again…"

"Tony," Tim said interrupting his partner. "Jimmy said that he thought he knew who the mole might be."

"Mole?" Tony asked as he looked at Tim.

"Just drive," Tim said motioning to the nearly empty road.

"All right," Tony replied as he started the car.

Tony pulled out onto the road and after a moment, Tim said, "Jimmy said that he thought he knew who the mole was that was tipping off the law. Then he said that he was going to take care of it tonight."

"Fornell?" Tony asked.

Tim shook his head. "I don't know. He wouldn't say who he thought it was and I wasn't about to ask."

"But you think he thinks it's Fornell," Tony said.

"I've seen all the evidence, Tony. Jimmy and I have been talking about it since the raids started. If he thinks it's someone else, then it's a mole we don't know about," he retorted heatedly. "I know something is going to happen tonight but I don't know the target. I do know that someone is going to die tonight." He cut himself off before he could add that Fornell's death would be his fault. He shook his head and sighed as he looked out of the windshield to avoid looking at Tony. He could feel his partner's gaze on the back of his head. "Sorry. I'm frustrated. Yes, I think he thinks it is Fornell."

"I know you feel responsible McGee but you're not," Tony said as if he was reading his mind. "He knew the risks of helping us and he decided to help anyway. If it is Fornell, we just need to count on the safeguards we put in place."

"I know. It'll work out," he replied trying to sound more optimistic than he really felt.

"I don't want to burst your bubble, Tim but we might need to hope for a Christmas miracle," Tony replied as he navigated the slushy streets. He finally looked at Tony. His partner's expression was stony. "Those safeguards for Fornell and his ex and kid are thin at best. We're hedging our bets on people that could get themselves killed if Naps find out they tipped off the guy instead of kill him."

"I know," he said with a sigh.

"And Fornell knows that too," Tony said. He nodded. "Well there's nothing that we can do now," Tony said. "Napolitano might not think that it's Fornell. And if it is, we'll know soon enough. Either they'll show up at the safe house or he'll turn up dead."

"At the very least someone is going to have a bad Christmas," Tim said as he fell silent and turned his gaze out the window. He didn't feel much like talking anymore and for the time being, Tony didn't seem like he was going to press the issue.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So again with the weather. One of the largest snowfalls in Washington D.C.'s history (prior to the Snowpocalypse in 2009) occurred on December 17-18, 1932 when 12 inches (30 cm) of snow fell on the city. Temperatures were also cold with lows in the teens and highs in the 20s (-12°C to -4°C). I'm still not sure why I was looking up the weather but when I found this information, I decided to include it.

Also, regarding the Prohibition Unit and Bureau of Investigation. The Prohibition Unit had been a part of various agencies, including the Bureau of Internal Revenue, the Department of Treasury, and in 1930 it joined the Department of Justice. By December 1932, Prohibition was unpopular and a movement to repeal the 18th Amendment was gaining strength. In 1933, the Prohibition Unit was integrated into the Bureau of Investigation although it was kept as a separate unit. After Prohibition was repealed, it returned to the Department of Treasury and ultimately became the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms also known as the ATF.

Both the Bureau of Investigation (BOIs) and Prohibition Unit (Prohis) are referenced with the raids on Napolitano's businesses. In truth, Naps would be a target for both agencies for different reasons. The Prohis were focused on illegal liquor and the BOIs would be after Jimmy for everything else. Either way, the G-men (government men) or the law (slang for all police) would be one and the same to him, which is why you often see me referring to both agencies almost interchangeably.


	22. Chapter 21 - Holiday Spirit

**Chapter 21 – Holiday Spirit**

 _Tony DiNozzo_

* * *

Tony looked at his partner and frowned.

Tim had been silent since they had left Napolitano's office and he knew it was because of Fornell. He didn't want anything to happen to Fornell either. He'd come to like the gruff G-man since they had started to work with him but he wasn't going to worry over something he had little control over.

But Tim wasn't like him. Tim had a big heart and he let things get to him. It's what made him such a good man and it's what made it so hard for Tim to work undercover as a gangster. Since being hired by Napolitano, Tim had gotten better at hiding his feelings but he had gotten better at reading his partner too.

As they neared _Quicksilver_ , he found himself hoping that Abby could cheer Tim up tonight. He'd hate to see his partner brood over something out of his control.

Tim sighed lightly.

He glanced at his partner. Tim was particularly morose tonight and he had a feeling that even the quirky club manager would have a hard time cheering up his friend tonight.

"Try to put it out of your head, Tim," he said gently, hoping his words would help his friend. "You can't do anything about it. And if you think about it too much, _you'll_ have a bad Christmas."

"I can't help it," Tim said. "Do you know how many people have died since we started our little operation?"

"Do you know how many people would have died had we not started this little operation?" he demanded as he parked the car. Apparently gentle wasn't going to get through Tim's thick skull tonight. He changed tactics. "About the same amount. Napolitano is ruthless or have you missed that?"

Tim sighed as he looked at him. "No, I didn't miss that," Tim replied. "Since October, I've had a front seat to Napolitano's decision-making process. Don't try to tell me that our actions didn't have consequences Tony."

"I'm not," Tony replied. "But who's to say that things wouldn't have been worse?" Tim frowned. "We both know that taking James Napolitano down, will help a lot of people. People like Fornell, his wife and their daughter."

"I just don't like thinking that what I'm doing results in someone losing their life," Tim said with a sigh. "Even if it's for a good cause."

He looked at his partner. "I know, Tim. I don't like it either but it comes with the territory. Besides if it wasn't you in this position, it would be someone else. That someone would probably be far less empathetic and far more ruthless than you. And even worse, it would be someone who wasn't working to take down Napolitano and someone who isn't working to put an end to this crime organization. You know what we're doing and you know it's working. And you know it'll be worth it in the end."

Tim nodded. He wasn't certain that was the only thing Tim was worried about but he did look a little better.

"All right, let's go, have a drink and dance," he said.

"You know, I kinda don't want to get out," Tim said as he looked at the sleet pelting the window. "It's warm in here."

"See, I knew you'd appreciate that heater," he said as he turned off the car. "Come on."

Bracing themselves, they got out of the car and held onto their hats as they hurried down the street towards the non-descript door that led to _Quicksilver_. They knocked the secret code and a slot opened, revealing a pair of eyes. As soon as the guard recognized him, he opened the door.

"Thanks, Simon," Tim said as he stomped the slush from his shoes.

"No problem, Tim," he said in his deep voice. "Didn't think that you were going to make it. Miss Sciuto was getting anxious."

"I'm sure she was," Tony said.

He watched as Tim pulled a crisp twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to Simon. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, Mr. McGee!" Simon said as he accepted the generous gift. "Merry Christmas!" He opened the secret door and motioned for them to go down to the club. They could vaguely hear the jazz music as they descended.

"That was nice of you, McGee," he said after Simon had shut the secret door behind them.

"Yeah, well, people like Cade are just trying to make a living. An honest day's work in a dishonest trade," Tim replied. "He's a good man just trying to provide for his family. He'll put that money to good use."

When they reached the club, they both smiled. The club was decorated to the nines for Christmas. Garland was strung along the stage and the bar and at least a dozen trees were scattered around the club, each decorated differently. In spite of the weather, it was crowded tonight.

The dance floor was filled with couples swaying to the romantic ballad being played by the house band but he didn't see any sign of Ziva. It seemed like they had missed her first set for the night. The tables were packed with people too as waitresses maneuvered their way around serving drinks or small plates of finger food.

He had been skeptical at first but adding a kitchen had been more than worth it for Abby. Dancing and drinking was hungry work and Abby had been insistent that serving food would be something that her customers would like. And he knew it would help her bottom line since liquor prices had soared since the BOIs had put the squeeze on the local bootleggers.

But they weren't a restaurant. They didn't have the space for a kitchen big enough to serve full meals to the volume of people that passed through their club each night.

It was Ziva who had suggested that they serve tapas. He had never heard of anything edible called tapas but Ziva had informed him that it was a Spanish word that meant small plates.

They had hired a cook and started to serve food on a small scale. Deviled eggs, cheese and crackers, stuffed mushrooms, toast with tomatoes and basil and a few other simple items. It had been so popular that the kitchen grew. Abby hired three more cooks and now she made a tidy profit. As a bonus for them, the cooks would prepare dinner for them.

"Big crowd," he commented as he pulled off his overcoat.

"I guess a party is enough of a reason to draw people out into this weather," Tim said as he did the same. "It worked for us."

He nodded in concession as they handed their coats to a girl who gave them tokens in exchange. Then they hurried out into the club.

"Tim! You made it!"

Tim turned around and braced himself just in time to catch Abby, who had launched herself at him. After a much more passionate kiss than was usually acceptable for public consumption, they pulled apart, smiling. Tim looked at Abby in shock and a dull flush was creeping up his neck.

"Merry Christmas!" she said seductively as they parted.

"Merry Christmas," Tim replied as he looked at her bemused. "Are you drunk?"

He laughed at the question. There was no doubt in his mind that Abby was drunk.

"Maybe a little," she said. "Stan made the eggnog a little strong," she said holding her fingers an inch apart.

"I see that," Tim said as he looked at him.

Tony grinned at the drunken ball of energy then at his friend. Tim was going to have his hands full tonight.

"And," Abby said. "You are late," she said poking Tim in the chest. "I just had a drink or two while I was waiting for you to get here."

"I think you had a few more than a drink or two," Tony replied.

"Maybe," Abby said with a wink.

"Perhaps you ought to switch to something with less…uh… no alcohol for a while," Tim suggested. "And maybe eat something. Now that we're here, you can have the cook send out some dinner for us."

"That's a good idea Tim," she replied as she led them to their usual table. "We were waiting for you two."

They sat down and nodded at Gibbs and a pretty, blond woman. Gibbs had his usual bourbon and the woman had a glass of wine. To their surprise, they also saw Doctor Mallard and his assistant, Jimmy. Doctor Mallard toyed with a glass of scotch and Jimmy had a beer in front of him.

"Merry Christmas," Tony said as he took a seat next to the pretty woman. "I don't think that we've met. Tony DiNozzo," he said.

"Hollis Mann," she said before Gibbs could introduce her.

"Timothy McGee," Tim added.

"Hollis is _Quicksilver's_ seamstress. She did all the upholstering and the curtains," Abby said, slurring. "And she's Gibbs' girlfriend."

He looked at Abby sharply then turned his attention back to Gibbs. So, this was the girl Gibbs was pitching woo with. Gibbs had done well for himself. Hollis was beautiful and surprisingly not a redhead. He grinned but Gibbs glared at him until his gaze wavered. He looked at Hollis and smiled pleasantly before he looked at Tim. Tim shook his head. He hadn't met her either.

"Gibbs didn't mention me?" she asked. She looked a little hurt. "We've been seeing each other for over six months."

"No," he replied. "Then again Gibbs isn't the most talkative guy at the best of times let alone when the topic is his personal life. I wouldn't take it personally, Miss Mann."

"Hollis," she said. "I've never been so formal."

He nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. "Gibbs, why didn't you bring her around before now?"

"I'm afraid that is mostly my fault," Hollis said. "Like Jethro, I'm not a big fan of hot music. I like to spend time in places where you can hear yourself think." Hollis looked around. "Although, I'll admit, on occasion, it is nice change of pace."

Tim smiled at Tony then looked around. The club was full of music and laughter. With the Christmas decorations and the warmth, it was easy to forget the gloomy weather above or that they were in the basement of an industrial building.

Suddenly his stomach growled loudly and everyone turned at looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

Fortunately, Michelle was passing by their table.

"Michelle, we need a large glass of water and dinner," Tim said as the waitress walked by. She stopped reluctantly and after a furtive glance at Jimmy, she nodded. "And a vodka tonic for me and a vodka martini for Tony."

"Sure," she said.

"That was frosty," Tony said as he looked at Jimmy.

"Yeah, uh, well," Jimmy stammered. "Considering what happened; Michelle and I aren't seeing each other. It's been a little awkward tonight."

"I see that," he replied. "Is this the first time you've seen her since…"

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "I mean, we've talked a few times on the phone. She was concerned and wanted to know if I was ok. But this is the first time I've been to a club since that night."

"With good reason," Ducky retorted.

"I had to beg Doctor Mallard to come to the party," Jimmy finished. "I didn't think that things would be this… awkward."

"I wouldn't worry, Jimmy," Tony said. "There are plenty of fish in the sea. You'll find someone."

"Yeah," Jimmy replied. "I guess."

"Don't let him fool you Tony," Abby said in a stage whisper. "Jimmy's got a new girlfriend. She's an undertaker."

He looked at Jimmy.

"It's a family business," Jimmy hastily explained. "She's got a viewing tomorrow or she'd have been here tonight."

"I think it's sweet," Abby said grinning. "A coroner and an undertaker. It's a match made in heaven." Abby hiccoughed lightly.

"Ok you are definitely cut off," Tim said bemused.

Abby swayed slightly in her seat. "I'm sorry, Tim," Abby said. "I can't help it. I just love Christmas!"

"I can see that," Tim said. "We'll get some food and water into you and we'll sober you up soon enough to enjoy the rest of the party. You really did up the place nice."

"Thanks," she said as she leaned on his shoulder.

Tim wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "It's good to see you out and about, Jimmy."

"Believe me, it is good to be out and about," Jimmy replied. The young man had lost some weight but seemed fit and happy. "And it's all thanks to you and the Doctor." He looked at Ducky, who smiled at him bashfully. "Well mostly thanks to the Doctor but you know what I mean."

Hollis looked around, puzzled. She was the only one who didn't know what had happened.

"Jimmy was shot by some thugs about six months ago," Tim explained. "It was pretty touch and go for a while there until we managed to get the doctor."

Hollis looked at Ducky. "Why didn't you take him to the hospital?"

"He was shot just down the street from here," Tim replied.

"There was a shootout with some of Grenouille's goons," Tony said.

"La Grenouille?" Hollis asked. They nodded. "I've read about him in the papers. He's a criminal."

"A criminal that is in fierce competition with Mr. Napolitano," Tim interjected. "The owner of this club."

"It drew all kinds of cops to the neighborhood. We couldn't risk tipping off the authorities that _Quicksilver_ is here and if we showed up at the hospital with a gunshot victim, the police would have put two and two together," Tony finished.

"At the risk of his life?" she asked incredulously.

"At the risk of our lives," Gibbs said softly. "If _Quicksilver_ would have been found, Napolitano would have killed all of us without a second thought."

"That and Abby would have lost her livelihood along with all the people that work here," Tim added.

"Besides, we got the Doc in and saved Jimmy. I'd call it a good day's work," he said with a smile as Michelle arrived with his drink. He watched as she carefully avoided looking at Jimmy.

"I don't get it," Hollis said as she looked around at them.

"Unfortunately, it is the nature of the beast, my dear," Doctor Mallard said. "There is no need to pretend to understand it or like it."

"And until the politicians get their heads screwed on straight and abolish the laws banning alcohol, we're going to have to deal with people like Napolitano and the thugs that shot Jimmy," Tim added as he took his glass and then Abby's water. "All that so in the meantime, we can make merry and celebrate the holidays in Abby's fine establishment."

"Hear, hear," he said as he raised his glass. Everyone echoed him as they raised their glasses.

"Speaking of hearing things," he said as he sipped his drink. "I hear that our esteemed lawmakers are looking for a way to repeal Prohibition."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Hollis said. "They're far too afraid of the temperance lobby. They've vowed to vote out any lawmaker that seeks to repeal the eighteenth amendment."

"That's a bit like cutting off your nose to spite your face," Tony said. "Prohibition hasn't worked."

"Not exactly," Hollis said with a smile as she sipped her wine.

Thankfully their dinner arrived quickly and Ziva returned for her second set. He ate his dinner mechanically but he could honestly say that his attention was more on Ziva than the food. When she was finished singing, he made a hasty excuse to leave.

While he hadn't advanced their relationship beyond the occasional kiss, he had been spending more time with Ziva since September when she had told him about her life after the great war. He hadn't turned up any more evidence that she had been involved in her father's work. She also hadn't provided any proof that she hadn't, which is why he remained cautious around her.

Yet, he was still attracted to her and enjoyed spending time with her. He might even say that they had become friends.

He reached her dressing room and knocked. Ziva opened the door but even as he smiled she turned and returned to her dressing table. His smile disappeared as he entered her dressing room and shut the door.

"Hi," he said as he joined her at the table. She was powdering her nose but he could see that there was no makeup on the poof. "Are you mad at me?" he asked.

She turned and looked at him. "Am I mad at you?" she asked. "Am I mad at you?" she asked again, this time her tone was decidedly dangerous. He took a half step backwards as she stood. Ever since he had first met Ziva, he had realized that she was slightly dangerous at the best of times. Truth be told that had been part of her allure. "You said that you would be here to hear me sing."

He blinked. "I was," he replied. "I know we missed the first set but it couldn't be helped. McGee was working late with Mr. Napolitano." She continued to stare at him. He decided to change the subject. "I liked that new song you sang. The one about body and soul. I'd like to think that was aimed at me."

"It was," she said as she turned away from him and sat down at her dressing table again.

He smiled. Ziva had accepted that he wasn't prepared to have a relationship with her while he was serving as McGee's body guard. But that hadn't stopped her from teasing him with what he was missing. If that song was aimed at him, then she was practically begging him for something more.

"But now I am not so certain," she added, causing his smile to disappear.

He watched her body language and he could tell that something else was bothering her and it wasn't something little like missing her first set. But she seemed too angry to want to talk about what was really bothering her so he'd start small and work his way up to the real issue.

"You know I have a duty to McGee, Ziva. And he has a duty to Mr. Napolitano. We got here as soon as we could," he said evenly.

"I understand duty," she said harshly. "It has been engrained into me since I was a small child."

"You understand duty," he said agreeing with her if only to avoid making her angrier. He looked at her. Her anger had been replaced with sadness. In all the time he had known her only one thing could make her that sad. "You miss your family." She nodded as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. He knew what that was like. "I understand. I always get a little lonely at Christmastime too."

"I am Jewish," she replied. "I do not celebrate Christmas."

"I know," he replied. "But everyone around you does. It can't be easy to hear everyone talking about spending time with friends and family when you don't have family in this country. You must feel a little left out."

"Yes," Ziva replied softening when she realized he understood. "I do." Ziva looked at him and motioned for him to take a seat. He sat on the day bed. "You will not be spending time with your family because you must remain with Tim?"

"As strange as it," he said. "Gibbs and McGee are the closest thing I have to family these days." She looked at him questioningly. "I lost my mother when I was eight," he said to her surprise. He hadn't told her much about his childhood because it wasn't something he particularly liked to talk about. But something compelled him to continue speaking. "My father remarried but it wasn't the same. No step-mother or any of the various nannies I had over the years could replace my mother." She nodded in understanding. "Then I was sent to boarding school at eleven and my summers were spent at sleep away camps so I didn't really see my father that often. I still don't talk with my dad all that much."

"It is not my father I miss," she said sharply. She sighed and sat heavily onto the day bed next to him. "Because of his actions, he may as well be dead to me," she said harshly. He looked at her sympathetically. It was one thing to never have had a good relationship with you father but he saw it with McGee; it was much worse to have a good one go sour. "I am sorry," she said when she saw his expression. "I may not celebrate Christmas but as a child, I always enjoyed Hanukkah the most. It was a reminder to be grateful for what we had, which was very little at times."

He blinked. One of Napolitano's guards had been talking about Hanukkah today. "Hanukkah begins tomorrow doesn't it?" he asked.

She nodded, pleasantly surprised. "It does and I do not have anyone with which to share it." She frowned. "I am sorry, Tony. I took my feelings out on you when you did not deserve it."

"You aren't the only one today," he muttered. She looked up at him. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Hey. Why don't you come to our place tomorrow and spend the weekend with me and Tim?"

"I do not know," she said hesitating. "I do not think that Tim would care for me to spend the night in your apartment with you."

"He won't care," Tony said quickly.

Ziva looked at him skeptically. "I am not so certain of that."

"I don't care when Abby spends the night," he pointed out. She still looked skeptical. "Abby is coming over tomorrow and staying through Christmas. It'd be nice to not be the odd man out. And I always love your company. I would love to have you join us."

"Oh," she said brightening. "Does that mean you have reconsidered things between us?"

"Uh," he said. "No. That answer remains the same," he said.

"I do not believe that is what you really want," she said.

"Maybe not," he replied. "But there's what I want and what I need. One day, those two will be the same thing." He smiled at her. "Trust me, when that happens, you'll be the first to know."

Ziva nodded.

"Say I do join you for the weekend," she said. "Where will I stay? I do not believe you have a spare bedroom."

"Oh," he said. "I'll take the couch. We've got two of them. You can take my room."

Ziva smiled and nodded but suddenly her face fell. "But I know nothing of how you should celebrate Christmas."

"And I know nothing of how you should celebrate Hanukkah," he said realizing he had repeated her odd lilting speech pattern. Clearing his throat, he said, "How about this? You can share Hanukkah with us and we can share Christmas with you," he said smiling. "It'll be swell."

She brightened again. "Perhaps I could cook dinner tomorrow night. My mother taught me and she was an excellent cook. Ooh, I could prepare some traditional foods. Latkes, kugel, and brisket. Oh and of course sufganoit," she said excitedly. He stared at her. The only thing that sounded edible out of that list was the brisket. "Relax Tony. Latkes are potato pancakes. Kugel is a casserole with noodles and sufganoit are doughnuts filled with jelly and coated with powdered sugar."

"You can cook all of that?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied indignantly. "I am an excellent cook."

"Sorry," he said, chastised. "I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't. It's just that it sounds like a lot of food. I'll help of course."

She nodded. "And I will help you cook Christmas dinner. What do you eat on Christmas?"

"Oh, uh well we have a turkey to roast with an apple stuffing, mashed potatoes, roast carrots. There might be more but Tim is cooking dinner so I don't know the whole menu. I believe Gibbs is responsible for bringing dessert so who knows what we'll end up with. Actually, since Tim is cooking, we might go hungry."

"Tim cannot cook?" she asked. "Then why is he preparing dinner?"

"We told our cook, Anne to spend the day with her family so someone has to do it." She nodded in understanding. "Tim is a fair cook. Better than me anyway. His father cooked for his family after Tim's grandmother passed away."

"So, his father taught him," Ziva concluded.

"Or tried to teach him anyway. But there's a big difference between cooking basic meals and a big spread like this one. He's certainly more qualified to cook this meal than I am. I can barely boil water." Ziva looked concerned. He supposed he would be concerned too after that description of the cook. "It'll be fine Ziva. I like to razz Tim but he's a good guy and he's a decent cook. Besides, I think he's been grilling Anne for weeks about the proper cooking methods and timing. Tim is a smart guy. There isn't much in this world he can't figure out. You should really be more worried about what Gibbs is bringing for dessert."

Ziva laughed and then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you," she breathed against his cheek.

"For what?" he asked.

"For making me feel better," she replied as she pulled back. He gave her his best charming smile. She rolled her eyes but she was still smiling. "Now, you must go."

"I'd rather not," he replied charmingly.

"I would rather you not as well," she replied. "But I have one final set to sing and must prepare."

"All right," he replied grudgingly. "I'll talk to Tim about dinner tomorrow."

"Good," she replied. "And if you change your mind about sleeping on the couch, I promise I will make it worth your wow."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. "It's worth your while," he said correcting her.

Ziva smiled mysteriously. "No," she said. "Trust me when I say I will make it worth your wow."

He blinked as he realized what she was insinuating. "Oh." He swallowed hard. "Someday, I look forward to seeing how you intend to manage that."

She continued to smile even as he left her dressing room. After he closed the door, he leaned against it and took a deep breath. "Wow," he said smiling to himself. "McGee _really_ is going to owe me big time." He had a feeling his willpower was going to be severely tested this weekend.

Still smiling, he returned to their table.

Ziva sang her final set and then joined them to celebrate. The band, buoyed by the appreciative crowd, played long into the night and that drew them out from their booth to dance. He and Ziva, Tim and Abby and to his surprise even Gibbs and Hollis kicked up their heels. Even more surprising, Gibbs proved to be an excellent dancer. Ducky and Jimmy even took turns dancing with Abby, Hollis and Ziva.

Hours later he looked around the empty club. The party had finally ended as people decided to abandon their merrymaking for their beds. Despite the late hour, he found that he wasn't tired at all. Abby was sober and they were engaged in a lively conversation about their family Christmas traditions.

"We would always go out for our tree on Christmas Eve," Tim said smiling fondly at the memories. "When we lived in Philadelphia, we'd go up to the mountains and it would be my job to pull the sled with my sister on it. Then on the way back, my dad would pull the tree. We'd get home and mom would make a big pot of chicken soup that we would eat while we decorated the tree."

"That sounds like it was enjoyable," Ziva said. "Hanukkah is all about spending time with your family. I see that it is much the same with Christmas."

She looked at him questioningly but he shook his head. He hadn't brought up his idea with Tim yet. He didn't expect it to be a problem, however.

"Yeah," Tim said as he looked down at his drink. With a sad smile, he picked it up and tossed it back in one swallow. Abby looked at him sympathetically and squeezed his hand under the table.

"Our family always started the holiday off with the baking of the Christmas Pudding," Ducky said. Ducky was oblivious to Tim's distress. In fact, the only ones who noticed it were himself, Abby and Gibbs. "Our family recipe has been handed down for more generations than we can remember and the same sixpence has been baked into the pudding since my great-grandfather was a lad."

"You bake a coin into the pudding?" Hollis asked.

"Yes," he said. "Whoever finds it will have good fortune for the new year!"

"Unless they choke on it," Hollis muttered as she sipped her drink.

"That has only ever happened once and I'm sure it was only because my great uncle had one too many nips at the brandy before we poured it on the pudding," he said with a smile.

Their laughter was interrupted by a commotion from the top of the stairs. Tim turned around and looked at the steps. Even the employees had gone home for the night. Only the building security guards remained.

"Simon is still up there isn't he?" Tim asked as he looked at Abby.

"Yeah," Abby replied. She turned around as Blue entered the club from the rear. He had heard the commotion and had come to investigate. "Blue. Can you see what's going on up there?"

"That's just what I was about to do, Abs," he said as he drew his gun.

They watched as Blue cautiously started up the stairs. He drew his weapon and stood up as Tim looked at him. He also heard Gibbs check his gun. Tim looked at Abby before slipping his hand into his coat.

"Are you all armed?" Hollis asked as she looked at them in surprise.

"Again," Ducky said darkly. "The nature of the beast. I'd hope that none of you come across my table for the Christmas holiday." He looked at them pointedly. "And I'd rather not have the need to dispense medical services this night either."

"We'd like the same thing, Duck," Gibbs said as he slid out of the booth. Tim followed Gibbs. "That will depend on what's happening up there."

He kept the others in their seats with a glance before he joined Tim and Gibbs. They stood by, waiting and listening.

"Hey! I was told to come here!" a voice said. Given the distance and the distortion caused by the stairwell, they couldn't tell who it was. "I've got a password that'll prove it. Hermes sent me."

"Fornell," he muttered. He relaxed but didn't put away his weapon. "That's the code we gave Fornell, Tim," he said softly.

Tim blinked slowly as he realized what was happening. His partner put his weapon away.

"Damn," Tim muttered as he looked at Gibbs. "Napolitano said he thought he knew who his mole was," Tim whispered to Gibbs. "He said he was going to deal with it tonight."

Gibbs frowned. "I thought as much. I'm surprised it took this long."

"Well, on the bright side, the safeguards worked," he said as they heard several pairs of feet approaching them.

"We _hope_ they worked, Tony," Gibbs said. "What if they led Napolitano's men here?"

He frowned. "Only one way to find out," he said.

"Let me take the lead on this one," Tim said to their surprise.

He looked at Gibbs for guidance but Gibbs was looking at Tim. Tim looked Gibbs in the eye. He could practically hear their silent communication. His young partner was asking for Gibbs to trust him. After a moment, Gibbs nodded.

"You expecting someone, Miss Sciuto?" Blue asked as he led the way into the main room. He held Fornell tightly by the collar of his coat and he had a weapon shoved into Fornell's ribs. A thin man holding a bundle was being led, much more gently, by Simon.

"Not me," she replied as she watched Blue approach them. "Seems like they are though," she said.

Fornell was in the lead. He looked worse for the wear but he had on his overcoat and a hat. As they neared, he realizes that the man carrying the bundle was actually a woman carrying a girl wrapped up in a blanket. The woman was dressed in a pair of men's trousers and a heavy woolen sweater that obviously weren't hers. The little girl was wrapped in a large blanket and her bare toes poked out.

"You?" Fornell asked as he focused on Tim. "You're my contact? Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"I'm afraid it's no joke, Tobias," Tim said confidently. For a moment, he wasn't sure he was looking at his partner.

"Tobias?" he asked angrily. "We aren't that friendly, you money-laundering, low-life." Tim frowned but didn't respond. For all that Fornell knew; that's what he was. "And don't think that I won't take you even with all these goons around."

Fornell struggled against Blue's grasp in an attempt to reach Tim. But Blue tightened his grip on Fornell's coat, choking him slightly. "I wouldn't get so up in arms," Tony said as he stepped forward menacingly. Simon and Blue should have disarmed Fornell but they couldn't take a chance. "We know why you are here and right now you need us much more than we need you."

"Easy, Tony," Tim said softly. He looked at his partner and nodded. "Let him breathe, Blue." Reluctantly Blue relaxed his grip, allowing Fornell to breathe easier.

"What is going on?" Hollis asked as she looked around at them. She didn't seem to be frightened, merely curious.

"Nothing to be afraid of," he said quickly. "We got everything in hand. Miss Hollis."

"I'm not afraid," she said strongly. "I just want to know what is going on."

"Business," Tim replied darkly. If he hadn't known it was an act, he would have been genuinely frightened by his partner's tone. Tim was usually so mild mannered that he forgot how intimidating he could be when he needed to be.

Hollis frowned and opened her mouth to ask what that meant but Ducky interrupted. "It is probably better if we do not ask," Ducky said as he looked between Fornell and their small group. Ducky didn't look as eager to know what was going on as Hollis. "I think perhaps we ought to leave this business to those that are willingly involved."

"That's probably a good idea, Doctor Mallard," Tim said with a nod.

"He's right, Holly," Gibbs said softly to Hollis. "It would be best if you don't get any more involved in Napolitano's dirty business than you have to. The same goes for you Miss David."

"Well that's great, Jethro," Hollis said hotly. She crossed her arms angrily. "Unless you forgot, you brought me here which means that I'm stuck here for now. And that means I'm involved whether I want to be or not."

"Perhaps I can rectify that," Ducky said quickly. "My car is parked nearby. I would be glad to escort you home, with Mr. Palmer's help, of course." He looked around at the women. "I could also gladly see Miss David home as well."

"That's probably for the best," Gibbs said, not giving the women a chance to object. "I'll stop by in the morning," Gibbs said softly as Hollis looked like she was going to object. She reluctantly nodded.

"I would gladly accept a ride home, Doctor," Ziva said pleasantly. She turned to Tony. "You will call, yes?"

He smiled brightly. He really needed to talk to Tim alone but that could wait. He didn't think that Tim would have a problem with it but he'd promised Ziva to ask. "I'll call first thing in the morning," he said as he kissed her on cheek.

"Simon, you can go back to the door," Abby said. "See them out. Make sure that they get to their car all right."

"Yes, Miss Sciuto," he said with a nod.

Fornell glared at them while the women gathered their things and then left the club leaving Tim, Tony, Gibbs, Abby and Blue standing opposite the ragtag family.

He glanced at Tim then at Blue. He was sure that Blue didn't know what they were but he was also sure that Blue suspected that they weren't exactly what they said they were either. Some weeks after Abby had learned that they were undercover; Blue had approached her with his concerns. Blue had been worried that they were trying to take down _Quicksilver_ and had asked Abby if he ought to dig into their past.

His concerns had led to nearly a week of sleepless nights as they tried to figure out what to do all the while cursing his suggestion that they get a more competent man in charge of Abby's security. Fortunately, he knew one thing about Blue that the others did not. He was more loyal to the club he worked for than the man who owned it.

Even after a few short weeks of working for Abby, Blue was in Abby's pocket. For one, she treated all her employees better than any of Napolitano's other club owners and she paid nearly double too, which in these times was a godsend. But rather than risk telling him outright, they devised several loyalty tests for Blue. And every time he went straight to Abby.

In the end, they were sure of one thing about each other. Blue was loyal to Abby and Blue knew they were loyal to her too. With that mutual understanding, they left it unspoken between them that they wouldn't ask too many questions about each other but if something ever happened to _Quicksilver_ or Abby all bets were off.

"Sit down," Tim said. "Make yourselves comfortable."

When Fornell didn't move, Blue jabbed him with his pistol.

"Fine," Fornell said as he removed his overcoat and hat. Blue set them on a nearby table while Fornell pulled out a chair for the woman and young girl. When she was comfortable, Fornell took a seat and from the looks of things, it was a good thing too. He was pretty sure that pride was the only thing keeping Fornell on his feet.

Now that he looked at Fornell closely, he could see that his face was bruised and there were traces of blood on his cheek. He had been favoring his right leg and his clothes were dirty and splotched with blood. The older man had definitely had a rough night and it wasn't over yet.

"How did you end up here, Fornell?" Tim asked.

He knew that Tim already knew the answer but he wanted to check Fornell. As much as Fornell was worried about being crossed, Tim had to worry about that too. He didn't think that Fornell was loyal to Napolitano but if it meant saving his family, he would bet a month's salary that Fornell would turn them over in a heartbeat.

Fornell frowned. He seemed reluctant to talk but after spying Gibbs' glare, he sighed and said, "Six hours ago, two thugs and a third man show up at my door demanding to know if I'm the one tipping off the Bureau, telling them about the inner workings of Napolitano's network. I think the third man was Napolitano's chief interrogator, Kyle Boone." Tim jolted and glanced at the woman before looking at Fornell again. "After he worked me over, I knew it was him for sure."

"Boone?" he asked. He had heard the name before but any time he had asked about Boone, everyone suddenly lost their voice. He knew he was part of Napolitano's network and he was on the muscle side of the business. But that's as far as he got with anyone. Gibbs didn't explain so he looked at Tim. "McGee?"

Tim looked at him. Reluctantly he replied, "Napolitano pays Boone to get information but not for your everyday situations. He's brought in for high-profile cases or when Naps wants to make a statement." He shook his head, he didn't understand what was so special about Boone. "He's Napolitano's chief persuader. He gets information willingly or unwillingly." He nodded in understanding. "But he prefers that his victims try to hold out."

"Why?" Abby asked.

"He likes to cause pain," Tim replied bluntly. "His method of persuasion involves a variety of army knives and other assorted torture implements." Abby's eyes widened and Fornell's jaw clenched. "Chances are he's the one responsible for leaving my predecessor in Washington Circle." When Abby shook her head, he added, "Terry Spooner. The unidentified man dumped in Washington Circle last March." Abby shook her head. "The poor fellow who had his head bashed in, cuts all over his body and the word 'thief' carved into his back."

"Oh. Him," Abby said. When she looked at Fornell, she repeated, "Oh."

"All of his targets are killed after he gets his information, usually in a gruesome manner," Tim said as he looked at Fornell. "You managed to escape though."

"If not for dumb luck, I'd be carved up like the Christmas turkey." Fornell said as he rubbed his wrists. "The goons weren't very good at tying knots. When Boone left me to think about his questions, I got loose and made my escape."

"You look like he still worked you over pretty good anyway," Gibbs said.

Fornell glared at Gibbs but he couldn't deny it.

"Maybe we shouldn't have sent the Doc away so soon," he said.

"Your concern is touching," Fornell replied bitingly. "But I'm fine. I don't need a doctor."

Nodding, Tim motioned for Fornell to carry on.

Reluctantly, Fornell continued, "I knew that if Napolitano had sent Boone after me, then he likely sent goons after my wife… ex-wife," he amended. "And my daughter. Their safety was always contingent on my good behavior." He glanced at the woman. Her expression was a mixture of anger, fear and remorse. "I got to their house and found a pair of thugs lingering outside. I knocked one out and got the second thug to admit that they were there to kill my wife and daughter."

Tim frowned.

"Why?" he asked. "If Napolitano suspected you had betrayed him, why target your family?"

"It was a message," Tim said. "Naps isn't content to just make an example of those that betray him. He wants people to know that Naps will come after their family too. He wants people to think about the consequences of their actions."

"That's awful," Abby said.

"And we thought Napolitano couldn't get any worse after Spooner," Tony said as he looked at Tim. Tim's expression was neutral but his partner's eyes spoke volumes. He was certain that Tim was thinking about his parents and sister and what Napolitano might do to them if his betrayal was ever discovered. "Lucky you made it there in time," he commented.

"I was lucky that the men Naps sent were hesitant to kill a woman and a child," Fornell replied darkly. "I managed to get them away with nothing more than the night clothes on their backs."

He looked at them and understood why they were dressed as they were. One of the men that had sheltered Fornell must have given his ex-wife those clothes. The little girl had to make do with only a blanket and her nightshirt.

"You were given instructions in case something like this should ever happen," Tim said calmly.

Fornell couldn't hide his surprise. "Yeah. How'd you know that?" Fornell asked.

"You went to the location as you were instructed and I'm guessing your wife was given the clothes she's wearing," Tim continued without answering him. "Then you were sent to at least two other locations before you were sent here."

"Yeah," Fornell said softly.

"Blue," Tim said as he turned to look at the large man. "I think that we're good here."

"You sure, Tim?" he asked. "I don't want one of Napolitano's associates giving you trouble."

"I know," Tim said as he put a hand on Blue's shoulder. "And I appreciate that. But he won't be any trouble. Not with his family here. Plus, I've got Gibbs and Tony to watch my back." Tim glanced at him and Gibbs. They both still had their weapons drawn. "This is a problem that I'll deal with. You don't need to worry about it. It doesn't concern _Quicksilver._ "

"All right, Tim," he said. "I'll be in the back if you need me."

"I'll call if I do," Tim replied.

After Blue had left, Tim turned his attention back to Fornell but before he could start to explain, Fornell started to talk. "I get it," he said, his anger palpable. "This was just a ruse to deliver myself into Napolitano's hands. He wants to off me and when the first attempt fails, I walk right to my death on my own." Fornell smiled ruefully. "Clever. Very clever."

"That's what you think, Fornell?" Gibbs asked. Diane was looking at him with a mix of fear and hope but Gibbs was avoiding her gaze.

So, this was one of Gibbs' ex-wives. He could see why Gibbs would go for her. She was pretty. Tall, shapely, and long red hair. Gibbs always had a thing for red heads. Although, Hollis was a blond. Maybe their boss was changing as he got older.

"Yeah," Fornell said. "I can accept that Napolitano would want to kill me. But it's pretty low of him to kill my wife and daughter."

"He isn't going to kill your wife and daughter," Tim said. "Abby. Can you take them to the kitchen and get them something hot to drink? We don't want them to catch death of cold."

"Yeah. Sure," she said as she motioned for the woman and the girl to come with her but they didn't move.

"Jethro," said the woman suddenly. "What are you doing?"

Gibbs looked at her intently as Fornell looked from her to Gibbs in quick succession.

"Jethro? This is your ex-husband?" Fornell asked. Diane frowned. "He works for Napolitano?"

"That's why I didn't go to him when I had money trouble," she said heatedly as she looked at Fornell.

"That and you cleaned me out when you left, Diane," Gibbs retorted. Despite what she had done, Gibbs didn't sound angry. "Go with Abby, Diane. You and your daughter will be safe here. I promise." She looked skeptical. "Have I ever broken a promise?"

"No," she replied. "But you have lied to me, Jethro." The disappointment was thick in her voice.

"Well, I'm not lying now. Go with her," Gibbs said gently. "See to your daughter."

"Just in case you're thinking of doing something foolish," Tim said softly. "Blue and his boys are right next to the kitchen." Diane jolted and looked as if she was going to retort. But then she nodded in understanding.

Reluctantly Diane stood and looked at Fornell. He got the impression that she didn't expect to see him alive ever again.

When they were gone, Fornell turned his glare on Tim. "So now you're going to off me? I appreciate that my wife and daughter don't have to see it but I'm disappointed."

"How so?" Tim asked genuinely curious.

"I'm disappointed that you got so far into Napolitano's network that you're willing to kill for him, Mr. Thom E. Gemcity. Or Tim McGee. Whatever your name is. You seemed like a good man and just like everything else in this town, you've been corrupted," Fornell said strongly. "Just do me a favor, make it quick and clean and leave my body someplace so that I can get a proper burial."

"Is that what you think of me, Fornell? That I'm Napolitano's goon?" Tim asked heatedly. He was surprised by the anger in Tim's voice. Something was bothering his friend and it wasn't just that Fornell thought he'd gone gangster. "You think that I've been so corrupted by money and power that I'd kill a man in cold blood?"

"Maybe not you," Fornell said. "You'll have one of your goons do it. But that leaves just as much blood on your hands as theirs."

Tim winced and clenched his hands. He knew his partner felt like he had blood on his hands and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to convince Tim that he didn't. At best, Tim might just learn to live with it.

"Well you're very wrong," Tim said. "Because I've not been corrupted by Napolitano. I'd like to consider myself more like Honos."

Fornell looked at him and blinked in shock. He watched as Tim almost smiled at Fornell's reaction.

"Honos?" Fornell asked uncertainly.

"Honos," Tim repeated.

He frowned at the strange name. Tim had insisted that they use names from Roman mythology as their code words. Tim said it was fitting but he thought it was odd until Tim explained that Honos was the Roman God of military honor and chivalry.

When he had asked what Hermes was the Roman god of, Tim had admitted that Hermes was actually a Greek god. He had teased Tim for mixing his mythologies until Tim finally informed him that Hermes was often equated with the Roman god, Mercury. It had made perfect sense then.

"You're with the Bureau?" Fornell asked softly as he looked between the three of them.

"Not exactly," Tim replied. "But we are on your side and we will see that Napolitano doesn't carry through with his threat to kill you or your ex-wife and daughter."

"How?" Fornell asked.

"I can't explain," Tim said cutting Fornell off. "But I can tell you that you are safe here. No one will divulge your whereabouts to Napolitano."

"Even his security?" Fornell asked incredulously. Fornell looked at the backroom where Blue had disappeared.

"This isn't his security," Tim replied. "This is Miss Sciuto's security. They're loyal to her and only her."

"You sure about that?" he asked.

Tim looked at him and nodded. "I'm positive."

"Why?" Fornell asked.

Puzzled, Tim asked, "Why am I positive?"

"No," Fornell said shaking his head. "Why are you helping me?"

He was secretly glad that Fornell hadn't been asking about Abby's security because they weren't one-hundred percent sure. But they had one heck of a good gut feeling about them.

"Because I'm sick of good men getting killed for doing the right thing," Tim said simply.

Fornell looked at him as if he was judging whether he was telling the truth or not. After a moment, he nodded.

"Good," Tim said. "Now this is how it's going to be if you want to survive this."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** The song Tony refers to is Body and Soul by Gertrude Lawrence. It was written in 1930 and has a very quintessential 1930s sound to it and it is now considered a jazz standard. The lyrics include: You know I'm yours for just the taking; I would gladly surrender myself to you body and soul. So yes, Ziva was propositioning Tony with the song.

Hanukkah in 1932 did coincide with Christmas. It started on December 24th and ran through December 31st. I recognize that the foods mentioned might not have been traditional foods eaten in Israel for Hanukkah or that they might not have been common in the 30s. I think with all of Ziva's traveling after she and her father left home, that she might have picked up Jewish traditions from all over the world.

Also of note, Tim gifted Simon Cade a twenty dollar bill for Christmas. That would be equal to about $385 in today's money and probably somewhere around half of Simon's weekly salary, so it was a generous gift from Tim!


	23. Chapter 22 - Heart of Darkness

**Chapter 22 – Heart of Darkness**

Tim McGee

* * *

"Hey," Tony said, as they stepped through the front doors of their building, shaking and stamping off the snow as they did. Tim handed the night doorman, a burly young man named Joseph Wilkes, a Christmas tip as he opened the door for them. Wilkes tipped his hat in thanks as they entered the dimly lit lobby. "So, I've been meaning to ask, but with what happened tonight, it slipped my mind. And I know that it is a little late, but would you mind if Ziva spent Christmas with us too? I kinda already told her that she could come. I figured that since we're having Gibbs…"

"And Hollis," Tim added as they crossed the empty lobby towards the elevator. "Gibbs said he was bringing her while you were backstage visiting with Ziva."

"He didn't ask?" Tony asked affronted. "And you didn't argue?"

He looked at Tony incredulously. "Would you tell Gibbs he couldn't bring his girl?" Tim asked.

Tony blinked and replied, "Good point. So, you'll have Abby and Gibbs'll have Hollis. One more won't hurt. We have plenty of food and with Ziva, I won't be the odd man out. Literally."

He looked at Tony, puzzled. "Isn't she Jewish?"

"She is," Tony replied. "What's that matter?" he asked defensively.

"It doesn't," Tim replied hastily. "It's just that we're celebrating a religious holiday and it isn't her religion. I wouldn't want her to feel, I don't know, awkward?"

"Just because she doesn't celebrate the holiday doesn't mean she can't enjoy the spirit of the holiday. You know, peace on earth good will towards men. Spending time with friends and family. That's not just a Christmas thing"

"True," he conceded.

"And Hanukkah starts tomorrow too," Tony said. "Well today," he added when he realized that given the time, it _was_ tomorrow already. "And she doesn't have anyone to spend it with."

"We're not Jewish," he replied without thinking.

"Thank you," Tony said sarcastically. "I didn't realize."

But before he could explain himself, they reached the elevator. The night bellman, a pudgy kid named Dallas, was reading a book by a small lamp. "Morning Dallas," he said startling the kid.

Dallas hastily set the book down, allowing him to read the title. _Around the World in Eighty Days_ by Jules Verne. "Morning, Mr. McGee. Mr. DiNozzo. Late night I see," he said as he quickly opened the door to the elevator for them.

"We were at a Christmas Party," he said as they entered the elevator. After Dallas pulled the door shut, he started the elevator. "Are you enjoying the novel?" he asked.

"Oh yeah!" Dallas said. "It's amazing. I'd love to travel to the world. Too bad I'm not rich like Phileas Fogg."

"You could always try to get hired on as a valet," he said as they reached their floor.

"That's not a bad idea!" Dallas said as he opened the door. "Thanks." Suddenly Dallas' brows wrinkled in thought. "Uh do people still hire valets?"

"Guess you'll have to do some research," he said as he handed Dallas a tip. "Merry Christmas, Dallas."

Dallas looked at the ten-dollar bill and beamed. "Thank you, Boss!"

"Boss?" Tony asked as Dallas shut the elevator doors and returned to the lobby.

He shrugged. "Pringle calls me that too," he said. "I have no idea why though," he said. Tony grinned but before his friend could make fun of him, he picked up their conversation from before. "When I said we weren't Jewish, I didn't mean it like I didn't want her to share her holiday with us," he said. "I meant that I have no idea how you celebrate Hanukkah."

"Well we can share our Christmas with her and she'll share Hanukkah," Tony said as they started to walk down the hall. "She's even offered to cook us a traditional Hanukkah dinner tonight and she'll help you cook Christmas dinner tomorrow."

"Oh," he said as he fished for his keys in his pocket. Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hole in his coat pocket and his keys were now somewhere inside his coat lining along with whatever change he had in his pocket. "That sounds nice." He idly wondered what a traditional Hanukkah meal included. "She doesn't need to help with Christmas dinner though. I've told you before; I have this in hand Tony."

He had done enough research that he was confident he could pull off their Christmas meal even if he had never cooked a turkey in his lifetime. Between Anne's detailed instructions, her recipe for an apple stuffing and everything he had learned from the cooks at _Quicksilver_ , he was sure that he had everything in hand.

"I know but she wants to help," Tony said. "And I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a backup plan."

He stopped and glared at Tony. "I can cook, Tony."

"I know. You're pretty good at the whole domestic thing. Doesn't mean I won't tease you," Tony replied. Tony looked at him in confusion. "What's the problem McGee?"

"I have a hole in my coat pocket," he said as he continued to fish for his keys. He found a couple of quarters which he transferred to his other pocket. "I can't find my keys." Tony snorted. "You could dig yours out you know," he offered drolly.

"And miss you do the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies?" Tony asked with a laugh.

He glared at his partner and decided to change the subject. "You've been spending a lot of time with Ziva lately. And if she's coming over today and helping with dinner tomorrow, does that mean she's staying the night?"

"That was the plan," Tony replied. "It doesn't make sense to pick her up from her apartment, bring her here, take her home just to pick her up again."

"We don't have a spare bedroom," he said with a smirk.

"So?" Tony asked evasively.

"Where's she going to sleep, Tony?" he asked.

" _I'm_ going to sleep on the couch," Tony said insistently.

"Why?" he asked without thinking. He stopped looking for his keys and looked at Tony in surprise.

"What do you mean, why?" Tony asked.

"I would think that the question speaks for itself," he said. "Why aren't you sleeping with her? I mean, she's practically throwing herself at you. Didn't you hear that song she sang? The one about body and soul?"

"I heard," Tony retorted sharply.

"And it isn't like you've ever been shy with the ladies," he continued. "Need I remind you of every Spanish señorita, French mademoiselle, or Italian signorina you slept with? Because you told me about each of them."

"I know," Tony replied. "You want to know why I'm not sleeping with Sheba like Ziva?" He blinked and stared at his partner trying to determine what Tony meant by that. "You know. Like the Queen of Sheba?" He shook his head and Tony looked at him, exasperated. "The _movie,_ McGee."

"The _Queen of Sheba,_ " he said realizing what Tony meant. "That silent movie you dragged me to in Italy," he said dryly.

"Bettie Blythe," Tony said fondly. "Beautiful and sexy."

"And half naked," he added dryly.

"Yeah," Tony said with a grin. "You should be grateful we saw that in Italy. They cut those parts out of the version shown here."

"Why aren't you sleeping with Ziva, Tony?" he asked bringing them back to the original conversation. He was tired and eager to get to bed. It had been a long day. He started to dig for his keys again.

"You," Tony retorted, stopping him.

"Me?" he asked incredulously.

"I know I do dumb things when I get dizzy with a dame and I can't risk that right now," Tony replied. "Not with the stakes so high. I won't risk your life just so I can have a bit of horizontal refreshment." He stared at Tony in shock. "I know, it's not like me."

"It isn't," Tim replied, impressed and humbled that Tony was taking his safety so seriously. "But even if you did, you know, with Ziva, I would still trust you to have my back," he said sincerely.

"I know and I don't take that trust lightly, Tim," Tony said. "Which is why I won't risk it."

"So, you haven't…" he trailed off leaving his question unasked. "Since you've become my body guard?" Tim asked.

"No," Tony replied.

He laughed, which clearly wasn't the reaction that Tony had expected. "That explains a lot," he replied. "Especially with me and Abby. You're jealous."

"Don't rub it in," Tony muttered. "When this is all over, you're gonna owe me big time for this."

"What for?" he asked incredulously. "I didn't ask you to take a vow of chastity when you became my bodyguard." Tony frowned. "Look, I appreciate it that you think it'll be better if you don't sleep with Ziva. For the record, I think you're wrong," he said as he began to search for his keys again.

Tony shrugged. "It's not that simple Tim." He glanced at Tony. He looked like he wanted to say more but he changed his mind. "It's not exactly easy for me to attempt to have a normal relationship with my job. How do we go out when I've got to spend all my time with you? We only get to have fleeting moments between her sets or dinner in her room. If she does stay, this'll be a big step forward for us and we've never even been on a real date. I can't exactly get to know her that way."

He looked at his partner sympathetically. Between his undercover assignment and his job as a bodyguard to Napolitano's accountant, Tony didn't get much time for a social life. But he didn't think that was the whole reason for Tony's caution. He wondered if it had anything to do with the strange rumors he had heard about Ziva's mysterious past.

Finally, he closed his hand on his keys. He pulled them out triumphantly and closed the remaining distance to their apartment door.

"I know I'm not always the best judge when it comes to women but I think Ziva really likes you Tony." Tim grinned at his friend's hopeful expression. He made a mental note to get Tony to take Ziva out on a real date sooner rather than later. "I'm surprised at you, Tony," he said as he inserted his key into the door. "I'm surprised you asked before you invited her over. Not by much, but you did ask," he said as he poked his friend in the chest.

"Well you always ask before you bring Abby over," Tony pointed out as he swatted his hand away.

"That's because it's polite. But that's not normal for you," he retorted. "Maybe Ziva is a good influence on you."

"Can we have this conversation inside instead of in the hallway?" Tony asked, finally frustrated that he hadn't opened their door yet. "If we're going to continue talking about our sex lives, or my lack of one, I'd prefer to make this a private conversation. Who knows which of our neighbors are listening in on us?"

"At half past four in the morning?" he asked. Tony glared at him. Still smiling, he returned his attention to the door. Suddenly his smile disappeared. "Tony," he said as he looked down at the door. "The door is unlocked," he whispered. "I know we locked it this morning."

Alarmed, Tony drew his weapon. He quickly followed suit. Tony looked at him and when he nodded, Tony opened the door and slid inside.

The apartment was dark and ominous. Very little light from the street lamps managed to filter through the curtains which they had pulled closed that morning hoping to keep the cold out. Most of the light came from the hallway but it only illuminated a sliver of their apartment.

Tony motioned for him to stay put then towards himself and the bathroom. He nodded in understanding. He would watch the door while Tony investigated the apartment. Tony cleared the bathroom and started towards his bedroom when suddenly someone tackled Tony from behind. Tony crashed to the floor and he heard a gun skitter off into the darkness.

He took several steps out of the doorway so that he wouldn't be backlit and make an excellent target. Then he took aim at the two men fighting but didn't have a clear shot, not to mention he didn't know which dark form was the intruder and which was Tony.

Suddenly a voice said, "Enough!" Someone had gained the upper hand. One man was on top of the other.

He heard a gun click as the hammer was drawn back. He removed the safety from his pistol and carefully edged into the room and turned on a light. A man had Tony pinned to the ground with a gun aimed at the back of his head. Tony looked up at him as best as he could from his prone position.

"Put the gun down or I'll shoot," he said firmly.

"What makes you think I won't shoot first?" the man asked as he pressed the gun into the back of Tony's head. Tony winced.

"Because Mr. Napolitano would be extremely pissed if you killed my bodyguard, Boone," he said realizing who he was dealing with. "And he wouldn't begrudge me killing an intruder in my apartment even if it is you. So, if you would like to live, I suggest you let him up." Boone didn't move. "Now," he added coldly.

Boone smiled and pulled the gun away from Tony's head. He eased the hammer into place and replaced the gun in the holster at his side. Boone eased off Tony's back and allowed Tony to get up.

Tony rolled over and stood up. He took a moment to straighten his clothes then glared at Boone for a moment before he suddenly decked the man.

Taken by surprise, Boone was thrown from his feet and slid backwards until he came to rest near the wall. From the floor, Boone rubbed his jaw. "What was that for?" Boone demanded.

"Breaking into our apartment," Tony said as he retrieved his weapon and then shut the door to the hallway. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I couldn't exactly loiter in the lobby waiting for you to get home and it's too cold to hang around outside," Boone said acidly. "Where the hell have you been anyway, Gemcity? I've been waiting for hours for you to come home."

"It's none of your damn business, Boone," Tony retorted. "Where he goes and when he returns home doesn't matter one bit to you."

Boone climbed to his feet and rubbed his jaw. He looked at little off-balance from Tony's punch.

"It is my business when he's in charge and I need to speak with him," Boone replied.

"In charge?" Tony asked looking at him.

He shrugged as he pulled off his overcoat and draped it over the sofa. "I guess I didn't mention that," he said as he tucked his pistol back into its holster.

"No. You didn't," Tony replied obviously surprised.

"If you must know, I was at _Quicksilver's_ Christmas party," he replied as he approached Boone. He would explain everything to Tony later. Right now, it was more important to figure out why Boone had broken into their apartment, how long he had been there and if he had found anything incriminating.

Boone smiled salaciously. "I did hear that you and Miss Sciuto are a thing. She's quite beautiful." Boone licked his lips thoughtfully. "You are a lucky man, Mr. Gemcity. I would give a King's ransom to see what's under the makeup. To see what makes her tick. To have some fun with her."

Infuriated, Tim lurched forward and slammed Boone against the wall, pinning him in place with his forearm across Boone's neck. Boone struggled against him and tried to break his stance. They seemed to perform an odd dance until he successfully pinned Boone's leg to the wall. He drew his pistol and pressed it against Boone's ribs which caused Boone to cease his struggle.

"I know your track record with women Boone," he said. His voice was low and menacing and to be truthful, he surprised himself with the venom in his voice. "You can keep your slimy thoughts and your hands well away from her or I will kill you every bit as slowly and painfully as the women that you've murdered," he said firmly.

"Napolitano keeps you around because you are useful but you aren't so valuable that you can't be replaced with someone far less unpleasant and with a better hobby. If you come anywhere near Abby I will kill you. Understand?" He shoved Boone against the wall harder, choking him slightly. "Understand?" he demanded.

Boone nodded. He held Boone for a moment longer before he let him go and quickly stepped backwards out of reach. Boone gasped for air and rubbed his neck but he didn't make a move to attack him again. After a moment, Boone looked up and smiled. This time, however, the leer was not present. "I'll consider myself warned, Gemcity," he said as he continued to rub his throat.

He backed up and glanced at Tony. Tony was startled by his reaction and he was looking at Tim for an explanation. But he shook his head slightly. _Later_ , he mouthed. Returning his attention to Boone, he asked, "So what do you want Boone?"

"You are aware of the leaks in Mr. Napolitano's network," Boone said. He nodded. "I was to plug one of those leaks tonight. First the leak then those close to the leak as a warning to others: you don't betray Jimmy Napolitano."

He nodded as he replaced his pistol in its holster. "I know. So why are you here?"

"The leak got away," Boone replied. "The morons I took with me can't tie a knot to save their lives."

"The leak got away," he repeated. "You let him get away?"

" _I_ didn't let him get away. My incompetent partners let him get away," Boone said acidly.

"Oh sure. Blame the help," Tony said. "It's never the fault of the guy who's in charge."

"Where is he now?" he asked ignoring Tony's barb. Right now, _he_ was in charge and he had to keep up the appearance that he was attempting to find the leak.

"Couldn't tell you," Boone replied as he crossed his arms defensively. "He escaped and collected his ex-wife and kid and disappeared. That's too bad too." Boone looked thoughtful. "I was looking forward to her. I love redheads and their fiery personalities."

He repressed a shudder. Boone was even creepier in person.

"You were supposed to kill a kid?" Tony asked as he glanced at him.

Tim shrugged. "That's why Mr. Napolitano uses Boone. He's heartless," he said coldly. "You did try to track him, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Boone retorted. "I'm not a fool. I've been doing this far longer than you have." He motioned for Boone to continue. "I knew he'd go straight to his ex-wife's house but when I got there, I found the two idiots who were supposed to hold her for me tied up in the sitting room. They were long gone."

"Is that all you did?" he demanded, hoping he sounded angry enough. "Did you put out word among our associates that we're looking for this fellow? Or have you just been sitting in our apartment for the last few hours?"

"No," Boone said glaring at Tim. "I've been looking for him while trying to reach you by telephone." Again, he motioned for Boone to continue. If Boone had been trying to reach him by telephone, hopefully that meant Boone hadn't been here long. "His car was found abandoned at the docks but there were no signs of him or his little girl. The dock workers didn't see who left the car."

"We've got eyes on his friends and family and we're watching the train station to make sure he doesn't try to skip town," Boone continued. "And I've alerted our other source. If the leak looks to his boss for help, we'll know."

"Bureau?" Tony asked.

"You know, DiNozzo, you're better off not worrying your pretty little head over matters you don't and can't understand. Leave this up to the big kids and stick to your guard dog duties," Boone said as he glared at Tony.

He watched as Tony's jaw clenched and he thought he heard a slight growl from his friend. Boone smiled, his point made.

"Boone means that his target worked for the Bureau, Tony," he said. "So, you're talking about Tobias Fornell."

Boone examined him critically. "You know about Fornell?"

"Fornell was sent to recruit me. I knew he was a cop from the moment I met him," he replied. Boone looked surprised. "What? You think that I didn't peg him? Fornell has cop written all over him. I'm not an idiot Boone."

"You weren't suspicious that he was offering you a job?" Boone asked incredulously. "You weren't worried he was trying to take you down?"

He paused for a moment. "That did cross my mind. But I got the impression that he had got himself into trouble. He didn't seem happy to be recruiting me and he told me not to take the job. However, personal economics dictated otherwise." He smiled slightly. "I think I came out on the good end of things. Do you know what he did to get himself into Napolitano's service?"

"Not him," Boone replied. "His wife. Well ex-wife. She liked to live the high life and took out loans she couldn't repay. Fornell took over paying her debt. In return for information, Napolitano would reduce the debt."

"And when Fornell got tired of repaying, he figured he'd get rid of his debt by getting rid of Napolitano," Tim finished. "Too bad for him, that didn't work either. Now he's got a death sentence hanging over his head. Ok." He glanced at his watch. "It's five o'clock now. Mr. Napolitano was on the _Pennsylvania Limited_. He won't arrive in New York for another hour yet. I'll contact him at noon to inform him of the situation. You keep looking for Fornell and his family and inform me the moment you find them." Boone nodded. "You better hope that you find them before I phone Mr. Napolitano," he said as he pointed at Boone.

"Very well," Boone said. He walked over to the coat tree and collected his coat and hat. He frowned as he realized how much Boone had made himself at home. "Happy Christmas gentlemen," Boone said acidly.

"Boone," he said causing the man to stop in his tracks. "Don't you break into our apartment again. If you do, it'll be the last thing you ever do on this earth."

Boone smiled. "Noted, Mr. Gemcity."

"Tony," he said. "Why don't you see Mr. Boone to his car?"

Tony looked at him and nodded. "Yeah." He motioned for Boone to walk ahead of him.

The moment the door shut, his knees buckled and he was forced to grab the sofa to stay upright. He took a couple deep breaths in an attempt to compose himself. When he was able to support himself, he hurried to the window and watched. A few minutes later he saw Tony escorting Boone to a car parked nearby. They exchanged words before Boone got into his car. After Boone drove away, Tony stayed rooted in place, watching as Boone drove down the street.

Satisfied that Boone was gone, he returned to his bedroom and checked the secret compartment under his bed where he kept the duplicate ledgers. The drops of wax he used to ensure that no one had been in his hiding place were still intact. So, if Boone had been searching their place, he hadn't found the ledgers.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he made his way to their small liquor cabinet. He poured himself a drink with a shaking hand and tossed it back. He refilled his glass again and poured a drink for Tony. He wasn't usually one to use alcohol as a crutch but this had been a particularly tough day and the burning sensation as the liquor slid down his throat was cathartic.

By the time Tony returned, he was steadier on his feet, had regained his composure and was grateful that his partner hadn't witnessed his partial meltdown.

Tony locked the door and held up his hand to hold Tim in place. He watched as Tony walked into the kitchen to check the rest of the apartment. Then Tony checked their bedrooms and the bathroom again for good measure. When Tony was satisfied that their place was secure, Tony joined him.

He handed Tony the drink. "You read my mind," Tony said as he accepted the glass. "I talked to Dallas. He said he heard someone knocking on our door about twenty minutes ago when he dropped off the Kevin and Audrey Daly on our floor. He didn't bring anyone up so he checked it out but no one was here and he didn't find anyone in the stairwell. He figured he had been hearing things and returned to the lobby."

"What about Wilkes?" he asked.

"He got a good look at Boone when I escorted him to his car," Tony replied. "He's sure he didn't let Boone into the building. I did a search and it looks like the back door was picked. I found fresh footprints in the snow."

"He must have come up the stairs if Dallas didn't bring him up," Tim said.

Tony nodded. "Dallas confirmed he didn't bring anyone up other than the Dalys."

"So, Boone was here maybe ten minutes before we got here," he said. "Small comfort. At least he didn't have long to look around our place." He walked over to the sofa and sat down heavily. "The ledgers are still safe. The wax seal is in place."

"Good. But we'll have to check the place over anyway," Tony said. He nodded in agreement. "So that's Napolitano's hatchet man you were talking about."

"I'm surprised you didn't know about Boone," Tim replied. "He's Napolitano's worst kept secret."

"I knew the name but I didn't have details," Tony said. "Conversations tend to change topic when his name is brought up. Since he wasn't a bootlegger, I didn't press. I didn't want to seem too interested in someone no one wanted to discuss." Tony looked towards the door. "He's one creepy bastard."

He snorted. "You don't know the half of it."

Tony looked at him appraisingly. "That was some reaction when he brought up Abby." He frowned. To be truthful, he had frightened himself with his reaction. "What does he do for a hobby?" Tony sat down next to him.

"You really don't want to know," he replied darkly as he raised the glass to his lips. Tony grabbed his arm stopping him from drinking and looked him in the eye, demanding an answer. He was reluctant to tell his friend. He half suspected that Tony might track Boone down and kill him.

But when he saw the concern on his friend's face, he caved.

Sighing, he said, "I don't know all the details but Jimmy has let enough information slip for me to get a good idea. Aside from his paid hatchet work for Napolitano, he goes after women." Tony looked puzzled. "He kidnaps them, tortures them, probably rapes them, and then kills them." He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "His total is probably somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-five or thirty women."

Tony's eyes bugged out. "Twenty-five women?" he asked incredulously. "How the hell hasn't that made the news? There ought to be a manhunt going on for a serial killer."

He shook his head. "The problem is, Tony, their bodies haven't turned up. He's got some secret dumping ground. Since they just go missing, it just looks like they run off or something. His victims are usually prostitutes. I've heard that's what his mother was and he resented her for it."

He downed his drink in disgust. He looked at the glass. The two drinks in combination with his lack of sleep were hitting him harder than he had expected. He already felt a little tipsy. But the worst part was that he felt like he needed another. And he was very close to getting up to get it. But as easy as it would be to drown his problems in liquor, he knew that wasn't a solution so he remained seated. He set his glass onto the coffee table and pushed it into the middle of the table for good measure.

"Why does Napolitano keep him around then?" Tony asked noting his behavior. "He might be a gangster but he's a decent guy." He looked at Tony incredulously. "Well, mostly. Napolitano is a lot of things but like you've said, he has a code of honor. Why would he keep a man around who murders women?"

He snorted derisively. "Even Jimmy is appalled but he won't cut Boone loose. Personally, I think Jimmy is too afraid to fire him."

Tony downed the remainder of his drink and he too pushed his glass into the middle of the coffee table. "I can see why. And I see why you went after him. If I knew that scumbag was leering at Ziva…"

He smiled grateful for the diversion. He opened his mouth to bring up Ziva again but Tony cut him off.

"Don't change the subject, Tim," Tony said. Tony looked at him seriously. "Did Napolitano leave you in charge while he's gone for the holidays?"

He felt the smile drop off his face. He sighed and rested his arms on his knees. He was suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. "Yeah. He did."

Tony stared at him for a full minute. "Why didn't you say anything tonight?" Tony asked. "You know, when we were at _Quicksilver_."

"How exactly do you bring that up?" he asked as he looked at his partner. Concern was written all over Tony's face. "It isn't something easy to work into the conversation."

"You could have told me in the car," Tony countered.

He shook his head and glanced back at Tony. "I was still trying to process it, Tony," he said. "Jimmy asked me to keep an eye on things only just before he left. And he had just told me he was going to deal with the leak. I was worried about Fornell and his family."

"Now I know why you were in such a bad mood on the way to _Quicksilver,_ " Tony said. He snorted. Bad mood didn't even scratch the surface of what he was feeling right now. "You should have told me, Tim. I can't help you if I don't know you're in trouble."

"I know," he replied. "But once we got to _Quicksilver_ , I pushed it out of my mind. The last thing I wanted to talk about tonight was work. I just wanted to enjoy dinner with my friends. It's Christmas and you guys are the…" He stumbled as the emotions seemed to get caught in his throat. "Since my dad…you guys are the closest thing I have to family."

"Tim," Tony started but he didn't know what else to say.

He looked at Tony. "This mission hasn't been easy for me," he said. "The numbers and math is the easiest part. It's the other stuff. It's the human toll that gets to me. Good people like Fornell, Diane and Emily have to run for their lives because they did the right thing."

He sighed heavily as he looked down at his hands.

"People died because of me. I don't care if you tell me that none of that is my fault, that it's the nature of this damn business," he said acidly. " _I'm_ the one sitting in the chair, next to Jimmy Naps, making decisions that impact people's lives. _I'm_ the one he put in charge while he's out of state for the holidays. _I'm_ the one who has to make the decisions right now."

"Yeah," Tony replied. "And because of you, Fornell and his family might just survive this mess. You made the right decision by sending Boone back out to search for Fornell…"

He shook his head. "I'm not just talking about Fornell," he said cutting Tony off. "We had safeguards to protect him. But what if I have to make a decision that gets someone else killed? That's on me, Tony."

Tony squeezed his shoulder. "You'll make the best decision you can, Tim. That's all any of us can do. You need to have faith that you're doing some questionable things for the right reason."

He shook his head emphatically. "I joined ONI to be on the side of the law not whatever this is," he retorted.

Tony took a deep breath. "I know that this isn't easy Tim," he said gently. "We knew it wouldn't be easy when we agreed to take this mission."

"I know," he replied. "But it's been so much harder than I expected. I feel like I lose a bit of myself every day. I'm worried that one day I'm going to wake up and Timothy McGee is going to be gone and Thom E. Gemcity has taken over. It's already started," he said heavily. "I hate what this mission is doing to me. How I've changed. I'd have never reacted to Boone like that even six months ago."

"Yeah you would have," Tony said to his surprise. "When it comes to protecting Abby, you'd have done that and more from the day you met her, Tim." He looked at his partner and realized he was right. He would do anything to protect Abby from harm. "And if what you say about Boone is true, he deserves to wear a set of concrete shoes and be sent for a swim in the Anacostia."

He shrugged, unable to disagree with Tony's assessment. For his crimes, Boone deserved the electric chair. It was just a shame that they could only execute him once.

"You went after Boone because you were protecting someone and _that,"_ Tony said emphatically. "Is very McGeeish," Tony finished. He smiled slightly at that. "I know that because I know you would do anything to protect your friends."

"Yeah well," he said as he sat up. "Timothy McGee couldn't have gotten a ruthless gangster to trust him enough to put me in charge of his operation."

Tony laughed.

"What?" he demanded. "It isn't funny Tony."

"I don't think it is," Tony said seriously. "But it wasn't the hardened criminal Thom E. Gemcity that got Napolitano to trust you."

"What are you talking about?" he asked. His thoughts were swimming from the alcohol and lack of sleep and Tony wasn't making any sense right now.

"It was the sweet innocent Tim McGee who got Naps to trust him," Tony said with a grin.

"That makes no sense at all," he said in frustration.

"Sure it does," Tony replied. "You're trustworthy Tim and you aren't a threat. That's why Napolitano trusts you and put you in charge. Don't you remember what Jimmy said when he came here two months ago?" He shook his head. "Jimmy came to you, _Timothy McGee_ , because you weren't greedy and didn't want to overthrow him. Jimmy could never trust that a hardened gangster like Thom E. Gemcity wouldn't want a bigger piece of the pie."

He shrugged in concession.

"I couldn't have gotten Napolitano to trust me like that," Tony said. "Even if I had the smarts that you do, I'd have never gotten us this far Tim. You're far more trustworthy."

He snorted, surprising Tony.

"Go figure that I'm the one betraying Jimmy," he said with no small amount of guilt. Even if he was trying to take down a gangster, it still didn't sit well that he was betraying that trust. "What does that say about me?"

"That you're a good guy," Tony said. He tried to object but Tony continued. "If you weren't, you wouldn't feel guilty for betraying a ruthless mobster." He rolled his eyes. "You are Timothy McGee. But Thom Gemcity makes an appearance when he's needed."

"Like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," he surmised.

"Yeah," Tony said beaming. "The film was amazing. I still can't figure out how they did the transformation."

"It was a book first, you know," he said dryly. "Is everything a movie to you?"

"I can't help it," Tony replied grinning. "I love the movies."

He sighed. He didn't like the idea of having an evil alter ego. He didn't like the man that was a hairsbreadth away from putting a bullet in Boone's gut because he had threatened the woman he loved. He had nearly murdered a man tonight.

"So, what if Mr. Hyde takes over permanently?" he asked softly. He nearly laughed at himself. He could hear the fear in his voice. "I don't want to be Thom Gemcity for the rest of my life Tony. I don't think I can stand it."

"And you think I want this permanently?" Tony demanded.

He frowned. "No. But at least you can handle this Tony. I'm not sure I can any more. I feel like I'm starting to crack."

"This isn't easy for me either, you know," Tony retorted, surprising him. "I've had to kill men because of this job. It was in self-defense, but that hardly makes it any better. How can it be self-defense if I willingly walked into the lion's den?" Tony paused for a second to take a breath. "I don't like it but I know that it is for the right reasons because it enabled me to protect my partner. What you did tonight, was why we're doing this. You saved three people tonight, including a little girl. I don't know if that makes up for the other deaths but it has to count for something."

He nodded. He couldn't argue with Tony's logic.

"I know you Tim," Tony said. "We've lived together for nine months now. You won't crack. I won't let you. Gibbs won't let you."

"Thanks, Tony," he said softly.

Tony nodded and continued, "But it doesn't matter because it won't ever get that far. You're too strong to crack."

He felt a rush of affection for his partner. "You think that?"

"I don't think," Tony said. "I know."

"Thanks," he said wearily. "And I realize that this hasn't been a walk in the park for you either. Hell, your self-control around Ziva alone has to be the hardest thing you've ever done." He grinned as Tony looked at him sourly. "And you're right," he said. "Saving Fornell and his family was a good thing. It does count for something. And taking down Napolitano will do a lot of good. But that's for another day. Right now, we get to take a little break and enjoy our Christmas. Together."

"You really see us as your family?" Tony asked.

He took a deep breath. He wanted Tony to know that he spoke truthfully and from the heart. "Yeah," he replied. "A really dysfunctional family."

"That's really touching, Tim," Tony said. "That means a lot to me, really. If I had a brother, it wouldn't have been awful if he had been like you."

"Thanks," he said sourly. But in spite of his tone, he was smiling. It really was a high compliment from Tony.

"I'm sorry that your family has disowned you, Tim," Tony said. "When this is over, they'll understand why you did what you did and they'll be proud of you. We're well on our way to disassembling Napolitano's network. This could be over very soon."

He smiled. The thought of this being over soon was extremely appealing.

"So, can we move on? Not to belittle your difficulties but about what I was asking before…"

He nodded grateful for the change in topic to something much more pleasant. "Yeah. Of course she's welcome. No one should be alone on Christmas or Hanukkah. Besides, that way you won't be the odd man out. And tell her I don't mind one bit if she wants to stay the night even if you don't stay on the couch." He stood and gave Tony a friendly pat on his shoulder before he started towards his bedroom. "I'm going to get a few hours' sleep before the unpleasantries begin. I'm not looking forward to calling Mr. Napolitano."

"Is… you know… ok where he is?" Tony asked.

"I think so, but you can never know. I know a lot but I don't know everything about Napolitano's network," he sighed. "We'll know soon enough. Gibbs has a safe house for them out of the city. He'll move them tonight after we've made some preparations."

"In spite of everything, this is good, Tim," Tony said stopping him in his tracks. "Napolitano trusts you enough to leave you in charge."

"Yes, that is good. But it's also bad," he said. "My tightrope has gotten thinner. If I'm not careful, it'll turn into a noose. Napolitano is smart. He could figure out I'm the one betraying him at any moment."

Tony frowned. "You're really pessimistic tonight," Tony said. "That's not like you."

He sighed. He shouldn't have had that second drink.

"I know. I'm sorry. But with everything that happened today and the fact that it's almost six in the morning?" Tony jolted and looked at the clock. When Tony saw the time, he shrugged. "Sleep will help." Tony nodded in concession. "Abby is coming over tonight and I'll get to spend Christmas with my friends. That will make all this better."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Two movie references for the price of one in this chapter! _The Queen of Sheba (1921)_ was a silent film about the romance between King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba and stared Betty Blythe and Fritz Leiber, Sr. The film was very risque at the time because of the barely there costumes that Blythe wore and there was even topless scenes that were cut from the American versions. Most of Fox's silent film negatives were destroyed in a fire so the film is presumed lost but there are still photos that show her risque wardrobe (if it can be called that!). It also gave rise to the slang at the time that a woman with sex appeal was called a Sheba.

The other reference is to _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931),_ which was a well-received movie that earned the star, Fredric March, an Academy Award for his performance. The transformation from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde was shown on screen, which is all the more impressive given the lack of technology at the time. Per wikipedia, "Make-up was applied in contrasting colors. A series of colored filters that matched the make-up was then used which enabled the make-up to be gradually exposed or made invisible. The change in color was not visible on the black-and-white film."

One final note, I've been able to post almost every day because up until now, I had been ahead of myself with my final read through/edits. But I have caught up to myself and in order to make sure the chapters read well, it takes a few days to complete my final edits. So, fair warning, I anticipate that I'll be posting every 2 to 3 days from here until the end.


	24. Chapter 23 - Family

**Author's Note:** And now for something warm and fluffy after that intense meeting with Boone. Fair warning though, this is definitely the calm before the storm! There's just four more chapters to go after this one.

* * *

 **Chapter 23 – Family**

 _Gibbs_

* * *

 _December 24, 1932_

"We're here," he said, waking his passengers.

He looked over at them. It was hard to see them in the dim light but Fornell was leaning against the door with Diane sleeping against him. Emily was straddled between her parent's laps. With only his truck for transportation, fitting the four of them had been a tight fit, so the fact that they were sleeping was a testament to how exhausted they were after their ordeal.

Fornell and his family had remained at _Quicksilver_ for a few hours while he reached out to Leon Vance.

After Tony had alerted him that Leon was back in Washington, he reached out the Morrow and discovered that Tom had brought Leon back to Washington before he had traveled to Europe to meet them about this case. Morrow's foresight to have another deep cover ONI agent that they had worked with in Baltimore and trusted in Washington had paid off when Leon warned Tim and Tony about the raid on the _Tin Angel._

They hadn't had much reason to use Leon as a go between since then, which would work in their favor. Vance had no overt connections to himself, Tim or Tony, or Fornell. Leon worked as a civilian at the Navy Yard, which meant he had no connections to Napolitano either. Any way you looked at it, unless they had been compromised, there was no way to draw a straight line between them and Leon.

Which was why Leon was the perfect person to hide Fornell and his family while he made arrangements for a more permanent safe house far from Washington. Leon had taken Fornell and his family into his home under the cover of darkness and with the Vances living in a predominantly black neighborhood, they didn't think anyone would look for Fornell and his family there.

"Where? And how can you tell?" Fornell asked. "It's pitch black out there. Between the darkness and the rain, I haven't seen the road for the last half hour."

"We're not in the city, Tobias," he said with amusement even as he noted that Fornell hadn't actually been sleeping. He had been feigning sleep while keeping an eye out. That told him that Fornell still didn't trust him. Not that he blamed the man. "No street lights."

"I noticed," Tobias replied as Diane sat up. "Where are we?"

"West Virginia," he replied as he turned onto a gravel road. "At the home of an old friend. You can stay here as long as you'd like."

"He won't need his house?" Tobias asked.

He shook his head.

The house had belonged to Colonel William Ryan. He had been his commanding officer in the Great War. The Colonel used it as a vacation home, a retreat in the mountains for hunting and fishing. Unfortunately, Colonel Ryan had gone slightly mad and was now living in an asylum for the insane, seemingly suffering from extreme nightmares and paranoia brought on by his experiences in the war. But fortunately for them, that meant that the house was available for use and it couldn't be connected to Diane or Tobias.

Fornell opened his mouth to ask why but they had come to the end of the driveway.

The small, single-story house was tucked in between several large trees. There was a small covered porch and a few dark windows looking back at them. The paint was peeling slightly and in the dark, it seemed foreboding. A ramshackle garage stood to the right and through the partially open door, they could see something reflecting the headlights back at them.

"I came up yesterday and checked the place out," he said. "It isn't much but there's power and an old truck to get around in. The nearest town is a few miles down the road."

He got out of the truck and hurried through the rain to the front door with Fornell, Diane and Emily on his heels. After weeks of cold weather, it seemed to be warming up, but that meant the snow had been replaced with rain. And even though it was warmer, the wet weather made the air feel colder than when it had been snowing.

He opened the door and turned on a light.

"This house is isolated and away from Washington and Napolitano's influence," he said. "And it isn't connected to anyone in Washington. You'll be safe here."

He stepped aside as Tobias, Diane and their daughter entered the house.

"You weren't joking when you said it wasn't much," Fornell said. He was looking around the shabby home incredulously.

The Colonel hadn't been much of a decorator, especially since he only used the house when he came to the mountains to go hunting or fishing. As such, it only had the bare necessities. And considering it had been years since Colonel Ryan had been institutionalized, everything was coated with dust except where he had disturbed things yesterday.

The kitchen, dining and living room were all in one room. One bedroom was to the right of the main door at the front of the house and the second bedroom was off the kitchen at the back of the house. The single bathroom stood in between the two rooms.

There was a single sofa under a window along the left wall, a small dining table and four chairs between the living room and kitchen. Several deer heads were mounted on the walls and an elk head had apparently fallen from its mounting and now sat on the sofa. Between the sofa and the kitchen was a large fireplace with a shotgun over the mantle.

"But it is appreciated," Diane replied sternly as she picked up Emily.

Fornell looked at her and nodded. "Of course. It is greatly appreciated," Fornell said hastily.

He nodded at her and was happy to see that she didn't have her usual scathing gaze for him. Their divorce had been ugly at best and he hadn't spoken to Diane since they had signed the papers. But a bitter divorce wasn't a reason to allow Diane or her family to be harmed.

Emily yawned and leaned against her shoulder. "I'd like to put Emily to bed. It's been a long two days."

"I'll get the bags," Fornell said. "How do we heat this place? I don't suppose there's a furnace?"

"There are wood burning stoves in the bedrooms and plenty of firewood out back," he replied. "I split enough firewood to last you until morning. I'll get the fire started."

He entered the front bedroom and quickly lit the fire he had prepared the day before. He had already made the bed up with clean sheets from his own home so Diane was able to put Emily down. When he had a tidy fire going, he went out into the living room and lit the fire in the fireplace as Fornell returned with their bags. Tobias was soaked from the rain but the bags seemed to have remained dry enough thanks to the tarp he had tied over top the bed of his truck.

At first, he hadn't anticipated being able to get any of Tobias' or Diane's belongings. But when Tony told him that Tim was in charge while Napolitano had gone out of town, that had given him an idea. Under Tim's orders, they had used some of Abby's most trusted associates to 'search' Diane's and Tobias' homes for clues as to where they might have gone. That had allowed them to acquire a few things.

They couldn't get much more than some clothes and some personal items but it was better than nothing and he doubted that anyone else searching their homes would notice a few missing items in the mess their boys had left behind.

Diane took her bag and looked at him. She hesitated for a moment almost as if she was reconsidering her actions. Suddenly she dug into the bag and collected something.

Diane approached him and pressed the item into his hand.

"Thank you, Jethro," she said. Suddenly she turned and disappeared into the bedroom shutting the door behind her.

He looked down at the pocket watch. It was his grandfather's railroad watch. She had claimed that she hadn't known what had happened to it during their divorce but he always knew that she had kept it. He had never expected to see it again.

Fornell was standing in front of the fireplace trying to dry off, occasionally looking at him and the watch. He could tell that Fornell wanted to ask about it but thankfully he didn't.

Instead he said, "Thank you. Jethro?" Fornell smiled wryly. "I know we were introduced but you'll have to forgive me. These last two days have been a bit of a blur."

"Jethro Gibbs," he replied as he joined Fornell by the fire. The light and the warmth were welcome in the cold home but it also threw the dark bruises on Fornell's face into stark relief. After almost two days, the bruises looked worse than they had that first night Fornell had forced his way into _Quicksilver._ And Tobias was still favoring one leg.

Smiling slightly, he pulled a chair out and motioned for Fornell to sit. Tobias sat down gratefully.

"I always wondered about the man that Diane was married to before me," Tobias said.

"Wondered why he divorced her?" he asked as he took a seat on another chair.

"No," Fornell said. He watched as Fornell checked to see that the bedroom door was closed. Then he lowered his voice. "How he got away clean."

He chuckled. "I didn't," he replied. "She cleared out my bank account."

"Mine too," Fornell said dryly. He smiled at their mutual misfortune with the same woman. "At least she returned your watch." He nodded. "I always wondered about that," Fornell said motioning to the watch.

"Me too," he said causing Fornell to chuckle.

"You got your watch back. For my trouble, I only got a headache and fifteen months _employment,_ " Tobias said sardonically. "With a gangster."

"Nah," he said drawing Fornell's attention. "You have a beautiful daughter, Tobias." He watched as Tobias looked towards the bedroom door. The man's expression softened. "And that is something special."

Fornell nodded. "Emily is the best part that came out of our marriage." Fornell looked at the door. "And thanks to you, I still have them and my life. I don't know what your game is but I appreciate it."

"There's no game," he said.

"Then why is Gemcity, Napolitano's right-hand man, interested in saving me and my family?" Fornell demanded.

He repressed a smile. "Been waiting to ask that since I picked you up tonight, haven't you?" he asked.

"You're damn right! I've wanted to ask that since I laid eyes on him in that club!" Fornell looked at him. "I can't figure it out. The only reason why Napolitano would have gone after me and my family is because he thought I was the one selling him out the Bureau."

"But you aren't," Gibbs replied.

"No!" Fornell replied. "I don't know anything about Napolitano's set up. I only knew what the Bureau knew from its investigation. My only involvement with his organization was providing Naps information the Bureau had on him." He watched as Fornell worked it out. "Gemcity saved me because he knew it wasn't me."

He smiled.

He thought back to Tim's behavior in the club. He had been impressed by Tim's assertiveness in taking the lead but not shocked. It made sense. If they were to maintain their covers, Tim would be in the lead over a handyman and a bodyguard.

And yet he had been surprised. He hadn't worked closely with the young man in months and while he had grown to know Tim socially, it wasn't the same as working with him. He knew Tim had changed since this mission had started; he could tell that much just from their social interactions. But he hadn't seen the young man in action so to speak.

From the moment that Fornell had appeared, Tim's demeanor had changed. He had been different. It definitely wasn't the demeanor of the meek and timid agent who had started out on this undercover mission, terrified that Napolitano was going to make him. He couldn't say it but Tim had made him very proud.

"So out of the goodness of his heart, he decided to risk his life and career with Napolitano?" Fornell asked. "I'm not so sure about that, Gibbs. I know what happened to his predecessor and so does he. Spooner only stole from Napolitano. Imagine what he would do to Gemcity for helping a snitch to escape."

He didn't have to imagine it. He knew exactly what Kyle Boone would do to Tim if Napolitano ever figured out what he had done. When they had started to put together this contingency plan, he had warned Tim of the consequences but Tim wouldn't change course. Not that he had expected any different.

"He knows the risks," he replied simply.

Fornell examined him. "Then tell him I said thank you. I owe him everything."

"I will," he said with a nod. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper with an address on it. "There's a lumber mill just outside of town. It's hard work but the pay is good. It'll be more than enough to take care of Emily and Diane. I've already talked to the owner. He's expecting you on Tuesday."

Tobias nodded. He seemed to want to ask a question so he waited until Tobias worked up the nerve to ask what they both knew he wanted to know.

"Someone is working to dismantle Napolitano's network," Tobias said. "About three months ago, I was supposed to take part in a raid on that club, _Quicksilver._ Instead I ended up in a dark room talking to two men who I thought were going to put a bullet in my head."

"Clearly they didn't," he said wryly.

"No," Tobias said. "Not long afterwards, the Bureau started getting tips about Napolitano's network." Fornell stood and started to pace, limping slightly. "That isn't unusual. We get dozens of tips about illegal clubs, gambling parlors and other illegal businesses every day. But these ones were designed as a test."

"Of Napolitano's network," he said.

"No," Tobias said as he stopped and looked at him. "Of the Bureau itself. At first I thought the two men who questioned me were from Napolitano's network and that he was using the information to find someone within the Bureau that had it out for him."

"Who were they?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

Fornell rolled his eyes. "They called themselves Gus Bricker and Leland Robert Spears, although if those are their real names, I'll eat my hat." He chuckled. "You know what I think now? I think they were getting information from me to try to find a mole that's already inside the Bureau. One that's been helping Napolitano evade prosecution for years."

"Cracked this case already?" he asked dryly. "Only took you fifteen months."

"It wasn't my case," Fornell said with a wry smile. But Fornell's smile faded as he sat down and looked at the fire again. "These raids, they're systematic. Even the raids I've warned Naps about have been planned." He looked at Fornell and watched as he put the pieces together. "A few small victories in the war so to speak. But it's only a matter of time until the Bureau takes him down."

He repressed a small smile.

Fornell examined him with intense blue eyes. Now he understood why Tim suspected Fornell was a cop from the moment they first met nearly a year ago. Fornell's eyes had betrayed him.

"Diane tells me that you worked for the Navy," Fornell said as he examined him. "But now you work for Napolitano. I can't figure how a guy like you went from an upstanding job to being a handyman for a mobster. Unless you are undercover." Fornell seemed to come to a realization. "You're the one directing these raids."

"No," he replied in all honesty. He wasn't directing a thing. This brilliant dissection of Napolitano's network was McGee's plan. He chuckled. "I'm not that smart, Tobias."

"But you know who is behind it," Fornell said. "Gemcity?"

"Not him either," he replied. Technically that was true. Thom E. Gemcity only existed as an employee of James Napolitano. Timothy McGee was responsible for those raids. "But it is dangerous to say that aloud, even outside of Napolitano's circle of influence. And I'd rather you didn't say that again."

"Because it could get Gemcity killed even if it isn't true," Tobias said. He nodded. "You have a lot of affection for that kid." He looked at Tobias who elaborated, "Gemcity that is. I could see how protective you were of him when I was in _Quicksilver._ How does a handyman get that close with Napolitano's money man? You two really aren't in the same class."

He shrugged. " _Quicksilver,_ " he replied. "I work for Miss Sciuto fixing up her club and Gemcity is seeing her."

"So, you're friends by acquaintance," Fornell concluded. He didn't disabuse Tobias of that assumption. He examined Fornell. The man didn't seem entirely convinced by his story.

"Gemcity saved my life and my family," Tobias said. "I promise I won't do anything to put his life at risk. I'm more than content to live quietly here just so long as my family stays safe. Even if that means living with my ex-wife again."

He examined Fornell. He could tell that Fornell was eager to know who was behind Napolitano's downfall. He smiled slightly. As an investigator, he understood the burning desire to know and understand all the pieces of the puzzle. And while he would like to share all that he knew with his kindred spirit, he knew he couldn't take the risk.

"But you want to know who's taking Napolitano down," he said.

Tobias smiled. "Do you blame me?" He shook his head. "One day, when this is over, promise me you'll tell me who it is so I can properly thank him."

He shrugged noncommittally and fortunately Tobias accepted that.

Standing up, he pointed to the kitchen. "The fridge and the pantry are stocked with enough food to last until the markets open again on Monday. There's plenty of cordwood out back. You should be set but if you need anything, reach out to Leon. His number is on the paper. He'll know how to reach me."

"I appreciate that but I'll make do," Fornell said as he stood. "I don't want to put you at risk. "I can't thank you enough," Fornell said again.

"Just staying out of trouble will be thanks enough," he replied. "I'd hate to see you waste your second chance at the risk of Gemcity's life."

"Trust me," Fornell said. "That won't be a problem. I've had my fill of mobsters for a lifetime. I will do all that I can to stay away from them." He examined Fornell. He got the impression that Fornell would rather arrest Napolitano than hide from him. "I won't risk my family just to take down a mobster even if that's my preference."

He smiled. Fornell was a man after his own heart. He nodded indicating that he understood then he turned to leave.

"Jethro," Fornell said stopping him. He turned around. "Merry Christmas."

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past midnight. It was Christmas. He nodded. "Merry Christmas," he said as he left.

It was late and he had a long drive back to Washington and he was already tired from staying up the previous night. But it had been necessary. They couldn't trust any of their other associates with Fornell's safety and since Tony had informed him that Boone had broken into their apartment; he couldn't count on Tony's help. So, it had been left to him to see that Fornell and his family were taken to a safe house, that they had food and clothes. All in all, he had maybe grabbed a couple of hours sleep in the last two days and he was feeling it.

He sighed as he got into his truck. Seeing Fornell with his ex-wife and daughter brought back many memories, most of them painful. And he wasn't looking forward to a drive with only those memories for company.

Even with his speedy driving, it took him just over three hours to get back to Washington. He collapsed into bed just after four in the morning and was asleep in minutes. He woke hours later and just in time to get ready.

After a wash and a shave, he dressed in his best suit which he had freshly pressed for the occasion. He fingered the fine material uncomfortably. It wasn't his customary workman's clothing and while the suit did feel strange, he knew he was uncomfortable for an entirely different reason.

" _You have a lot of affection for that kid."_

Fornell's words echoed in his ears.

McGee wasn't a kid even though he was younger than someone in his position ought to be thanks to his accelerated schooling. But Fornell was half right. He had a lot of affection for both Tony and Tim. And it was more than what he should feel about members of his team.

While he had worked with Tony and Tim for five years in Europe and now almost another two years undercover, this was the first Christmas they'd be spending together. Christmas wasn't just any other holiday. It was the day meant to spend with family. And this was the day that he was consciously aware that he did not have a family any longer.

He sat down on the bed and reached into the bedside table. He pulled out a small wooden box and ran his fingers over it. He opened it and looked down at the photographs inside. The top one was a photograph of himself in uniform and woman in a wedding dress.

He smiled slightly at the black and white photograph. It simultaneously felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago that he had held Shannon in his arms.

He set the photo aside and picked up the next picture. It was a formal photo of Shannon and his daughter, Kelly. He had found the photo in a letter that Shannon hadn't mailed to him before she and Kelly had been killed.

"I miss you two," he said softly. He gently brushed his finger across the photo. "Merry Christmas."

He took the photo and replaced it in the box for safe keeping.

He sighed and stood. He had never found anything like he had with Shannon and Kelly despite his three additional marriages. He certainly hadn't considered having children with any of them. He still had his father but they hadn't spoken in years so he was essentially without a family.

But after these last few years, he was finding that he cared for Tony and Tim more than he should for a pair of coworkers. And if Christmas was a time for family, then they were the ones he should want to spend it with because they were as close to family as he had in this world.

It was comforting and frightening all at once. A little part of him feared getting close to anyone because getting close meant pain if those people were lost. He had felt that pain acutely too many times before and he wasn't eager to feel it again.

He chuckled mirthlessly.

He didn't seem to have a choice in the matter. He was already close to Tony and Tim. He knew he cared for them. He cared for Abby. And he cared for Holly. He knew it would hurt just as much if something happened to any of them just as it had hurt when he had found out that Shannon and Kelly had been murdered.

But things were different now. He was here and he could protect them. He hadn't had that opportunity when he had been fighting in the Great War.

Without another thought, he grabbed his overcoat and left his house. He didn't want to keep his adopted family waiting on Christmas.

He stepped outside and frowned. The sun was shining and it was _warm._ If not for the Christmas decorations on his neighbor's homes and a few piles of snow than hadn't melted yet, he might have thought it was a spring morning.

Pushing the thoughts about the odd weather aside, he got into his truck and drove to Holly's apartment. He jogged up the two flights of stairs to her apartment and knocked.

A moment later, Holly opened the door. But instead of smiling, she looked slightly panicked. "Jethro!" She opened the door and allowed him inside. "I'm running late. I'm not even dressed yet."

He examined her and realized that she was only wearing a robe.

"I don't see a problem with that," he replied evenly as he caught sight of her long leg peeking out from the folds of the silk robe as she walked.

She looked at him as he took off his overcoat. "You wouldn't," she said dryly as she looked him up and down. "Wow. I don't think I've ever seen you dressed so finely." He looked down at himself self-consciously. She smiled. "Don't worthy Jethro. You look great. Now just give me a moment to get dressed. And yes, I have to if we ever intend to get to Tim and Tony's apartment."

He smiled at her as she disappeared into the bedroom.

When she finally emerged, she was wearing a deep green dress that made her eyes shine. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was but he couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked, clearly pleased that she was having an effect on him.

He swallowed. "Uh yeah," he said. "You look beautiful Holly."

She spun around. "Thanks. I saved up for it for three months. I'm just happy I have somewhere to wear it." She walked over to her desk and picked up a small box. "Here. I know we said we weren't going to exchange presents but well, what's Christmas without presents?"

She handed him the box.

"Holly, you didn't have to."

"Maybe not but I did," she said. "Now open it."

Nodding, he opened the box and pulled out a beautiful silver pocket watch. He looked at it in amazement. "You weren't saving for the dress for three months," he said softly as he realized how expensive the watch must have been.

"No," she replied. "We've been seeing each other for over six months. I wanted to get you something special for Christmas."

He opened the watch and appreciated the simple beauty of the small object. He wasn't much of a mechanic but knowing that all the little cogs and gears inside the watch fit perfectly was something that he could really appreciate. He closed it and rubbed his fingers over the scalloped back. This was a far nicer watch than his grandfather's pocket watch, which was utilitarian and mostly sentimental.

"Thank you," he said as he leaned down and kissed her.

When they broke apart, she said, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied.

She coughed slightly after neither of them moved to leave. "We should get going. We'll be late." She hurried to her closet to retrieve her coat.

Jolting, he remembered the box that he had tucked into his coat pocket yesterday. He had intended to give it to her after the party at _Quicksilver_ but Fornell's arrival had ruined that plan. "Wait," he said. "Merry Christmas."

"I thought you said no presents," she said wryly. He shrugged. She smiled as she took the long narrow box and opened it. Her eyes widened and she looked at him. "Jethro," she said. "They're beautiful. I almost don't want to ask…"

"They're real," he replied. "Been saving up for a few months."

She looked at him and smiled. Suddenly she shook her head. "You hide it behind those stares and your gruff exterior but Leroy Jethro Gibbs; you are a romantic at heart." He shrugged but couldn't deny it. She laid a hand on his chest, leaned in and kissed him. "Thank you."

He took the box from her and took the necklace out. He carefully moved behind her, unclasped the necklace and draped it around her neck. When he was finished, he admired Holly in a nearby mirror.

"Appreciating your present?" she asked.

"Actually, I was looking at the neck under the present," he said as he pulled her close and kissed her neck.

She leaned into him for a moment but then said, "Mm, Jethro, I like where you're going with this but we do have a party to go to and I think that people would miss us if we didn't turn up. As it is, we're going to be late." But he didn't stop. He wouldn't be terribly upset if they didn't leave her apartment for the remainder of the night. "Jethro," she said her tone finally stopping him. "I thought you were excited for this party. Now you seem like you want to avoid going."

He let go of her as she turned around to examine him.

"I get it Jethro. You aren't comfortable showing people you care and spending Christmas with people is practically saying you care in big, flashing neon lights." He nodded slightly. "I don't know what happened to you that's made you afraid to show your feelings but that doesn't mean that they aren't there."

"It's not that simple, Holly," he said softy.

"I didn't expect that it was. You are a complicated man Jethro," she said. "But you are still a man with thoughts and feelings and hopes and fears. And I see how much you care for Tim and Tony." She looked into his eyes and it felt like she was staring right through him. "I don't understand it but I see it. Are you afraid that they'll think less of you if they know how much you care?"

He shook his head. He was pretty sure they knew how he felt about them even if he didn't vocalize it. He doubted that they'd think less of him if he ever managed to say it out loud. They'd probably ask him if he felt ill.

"Look," she said gently. "I know that there are a lot of things you probably will never tell me. And if you don't want to tell me, I understand. Just do two things for me."

He looked at her, waiting for her to talk.

She walked over to him. "Tell me if I'm wasting my time." He looked at her in surprise. "Look Jethro, I'm not getting any younger. And I just want to know that whatever we are has meaning to you. I'm not asking for marriage but I am asking how serious you are about us? Are we together just to be together or do you really want me in your life?"

He sighed and pulled her over to the sofa. "You're right, Holly. I have lost people I care about. Too many to name and some losses were harder than others," he said as memories of his family popped to mind. She took his hand in hers, bringing him back from his thoughts. "Maybe that makes it harder for me to say things. I care for you Holly and I don't want to lose you. Maybe I should say it more but I've always thought that actions speak louder than words."

Hollis laughed. "If that's the case then you're usually shouting," she said. "Because you hardly say anything. But unless I'm mistaking things, the flowers you bring me, they speak volumes."

He nodded, indicating she was right.

Hollis laughed. "Good," she said. "You know, I think that's the most words I've heard you speak in a row."

He couldn't repress his laugh. "Maybe," he said with a smile.

"And probably the most sincere thing I've heard you say," she said as she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. He met her gaze. "Thank you for being honest with me."

He took a breath. If he had any hopes of maintaining this relationship after their undercover work was over, which could be very soon given how things were going within Napolitano's network, he had to warn her that he wasn't exactly who he said he was.

"What is it?" she asked picking up on his concerns. "What's wrong?"

"I can't explain everything Holly right now," he said. "I have a secret that I've been keeping from you."

"A secret?" she asked. "Can you tell me this secret, Jethro?"

He shook his head. "Things are complicated and I can't explain why. At least right now. I need you to trust me that I can't tell you and I need you to believe me when I tell you that this secret has nothing to do with the relationship between you and me."

"Jethro," she said but he stopped her with a look. He watched as she stared into his eyes. Slowly she nodded. "All right. I trust you Jethro. Just promise me that one day you'll explain those complications," Holly said.

He didn't reply. He wasn't sure if he could promise that. But he looked at her and he knew she realized he might never explain. And she understood. He squeezed her hand and she smiled.

She leaned up and he met her halfway, joining their kiss.

"What's the other thing?" he asked when they separated.

"Huh?" she asked.

"You said you wanted me to do two things," he said. "What was the second?"

"Oh," she said remembering herself. "Promise me that you'll pick up where you left off when we get back home tonight," she said as she tilted her head towards the spot where they had been standing a moment ago.

He followed her gaze and smiled broadly when he picked up her meaning. "I can do that," he said chuckling as he stood and offered her a hand.

She stood and he helped her to don her overcoat. He pulled on his coat and led the way out to his truck.

Fortunately, traffic was sparse and it didn't take them long to reach Tim and Tony's apartment. He parked the car halfway down the block and frowned as he stepped through a puddle to help Holly. He opened the door and lifted her over the small lake to the sidewalk. He shut the door and they started to walk towards the apartment building.

"I don't mind the warmth," Holly said. "But I was hoping for a white Christmas. I can't remember the last time we had one," she said.

"At least it isn't raining," he said as they walked into the building. They took the elevator to the proper floor and after tipping the reedy bellman, they walked down the hall. As they approached the door, he heard Christmas music and voices raised in laughter.

Holly squeezed his hand as they stopped in front of the doorway. She smiled at him and he allowed himself a small smile in return.

Without a second thought, he raised his hand and knocked on the door but no one answered. So, he knocked a second time, this time with a little more force.

Suddenly the music volume dropped. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Tony's startled expression. "Bo…Gibbs," he said as his surprise turned into a smile. As he stared at Tony, his expression fell. "Something wrong, Gibbs?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo, you can let us inside," he said sharply.

"Oh," Tony said chastised. Tony moved out of the way and allowed them inside. He had just handed their coats to Tony when Abby crashed into him.

"Merry Christmas Abs," he said as he hugged her.

"Merry Christmas Gibbs!" she said before she turned and hugged a very startled Holly. "What? I haven't had a drink yet. I just love Christmas!"

"I can see that," he said. This was the first time he had been to their apartment. He looked around and was impressed. Napolitano kept a nice place. Big, well furnished, and nicely decorated.

"You have a lovely apartment," Holly said appreciatively.

"Thanks," Tony replied as he helped her out of her overcoat. "I'd like to take credit for it but I only live here because of McGee."

Holly looked at him then Tony in confusion. "I thought that this was your shared apartment."

"It is," Tony replied as he took his overcoat and hung them in the coat closet.

But if possible, Holly looked even more confused. "But you only live here because of Tim?"

"Yeah," Tony replied.

"I thought that you were friends."

"We are," Tony said defensively.

"And that's not the reason you share an apartment?" she asked.

"Tim works in a sensitive position for Mr. Napolitano," Abby explained. "Tony is his live-in body guard."

Holly's eyes widened in understanding. "I see. So where is…"

"Kitchen," Tony said jerking his thumb over his shoulder just as there was an exclamation from the kitchen. He looked on in concern.

"It is all right!" Ziva announced.

He looked at Tony. He hadn't been aware that Miss David would be joining them. Although now that he thought about it, with her here, Tony wouldn't be the only one without a date.

"I asked Ziva if she wanted to join us for Christmas and she offered to help with dinner," Tony explained. "She is a fantastic cook. I can't pronounce half of what she cooked for us last night but it was all amazing."

"You can't pronounce what she cooked?" Holly asked.

"Ziva is from Palestine," Abby explained.

"She's Jewish," Tony added. "Hanukkah started yesterday."

"I see," Holly said.

He looked around the apartment that was obviously festooned for Christmas. A tree stood in the corner. Four stockings were hung by the fireplace, which was lit in spite of the warm weather. And they were listening to a radio program that was playing Christmas carols. But he did see a small unlit menorah sitting on a windowsill near a window that was cracked to counter the heat from the fireplace.

"Did I hear voices?" Ziva asked as she entered the living room. She was wearing a deep blue dress with an apron on top. "Gibbs," she said when she saw him. "Holly."

"Miss David," he said in greeting.

Tim entered the living room. He was wearing a fine suit but had shed his coat and tie and had donned an apron as well.

"Gibbs," Tim said surprised. "You made it."

"You sound surprised," he said.

Tim looked at Tony and he could tell that the two men _were_ surprised. Tim glanced at a clock on the wall. "Well it was getting late. We thought you weren't coming," Tim replied. From Tim's expression, he could see the younger man was wondering about Fornell.

"I was late getting to Holly's place," he said. "Had to wrap up a few errands and deliver a few packages." Tim relaxed and nodded.

"Don't let him take the blame. It was my fault," Hollis said. "I wasn't ready when Jethro picked me up."

"You made it," Tony said. "That's all that matters."

"Everything all right in there?" he asked.

Tim glanced back at the kitchen. "Yeah," he said smiling ruefully. "Small mishap with my thumb and the oven door. I'm ok. Dinner will be ready shortly."

"You cooked, McGee?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Tim replied indignantly.

"But Ziva helped," Tony said as he walked over to their liquor cabinet. He plucked a bottle out of a bucket of ice. "So, it'll taste all right," he said as he popped the cork on the Champagne. It was real French Champagne and must have cost them a fortune.

Tim shot a dirty look at his partner and Tony smiled roguishly in return as he poured the Champagne.

"It will taste fine. And I only helped a little," Ziva said with a broad smile aimed at McGee. "It was mostly Tim."

Tim smiled in return. "Thank you Ziva," Tim replied, vindicated.

Tony finished pouring the Champagne and then handed the glasses around. "How about a toast?" he asked.

They gathered around and raised their glasses. He looked around their small circle. The ladies were standing on one side and the men on the other. Tony paused as he considered his toast. He seemed to be genuinely considering his words.

"To spending this day with good food and good friends," Tony said finally. "That we can always be so fortunate."

Everyone murmured their assents and sipped their champagne. As the ladies started to chat amongst themselves, he gently steered his boys off to the side. They looked at him, expectantly.

"Something wrong Gibbs?" Tony asked, worried. "Fornell?"

"No. He and his family are settled," he said. He raised his glass again. Tim looked at Tony but raised his glass anyway. Tony hastily raised his glass. "To family." He looked at Tony and Tim. "No matter how unusual."

The two men looked at each other in confusion for a moment before they both smiled.

"To family," Tim echoed.

"I've never seen you so effusive Gibbs," Tony said after he sipped his Champagne. Tim looked at Tony out of the corner of his eye as if Tony had just led them into crocodile infested waters. On any other day, he might have chided Tony for calling him out but not today. "This thing with Fornell have you rattled?"

He smiled lightly. His words, if they had come from a normal person, could not have been described as effusive. But for him, he was practically gushing.

"Sometimes something happens to make you appreciate what you have and how that could all go away in an instant." He watched as they nodded. "Those are the times that you have to speak up."

He watched as Tim looked at Abby. After a moment, Tony looked at Ziva. And he followed their gaze towards the women and looked at Holly.

"Amen," Tim said softly.

"We're glad you made it Gibbs," Tony said. "It wouldn't have been the same without you."

Tim nodded in agreement. "Merry Christmas, Gibbs." Tony echoed his partner.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he said. They grinned. "Unless you burn our dinner McGee. Then I'd rather be at a restaurant."

"Oh geez," Tim said suddenly realizing that he had left the kitchen unattended for too long. Tim hastily thrust his champagne glass into Tony's hand and hurried back into the kitchen. Tim cursed fluently at whatever was going on in the kitchen. Tony laughed as Ziva hurried to help Tim in the kitchen.

"I've never heard Tim curse like that," he said amused. Tim was usually so mild mannered, that any kind of curse from his youngest agent was a big deal. So, to hear him swear like a sailor, especially within earshot of several women, was a surprise.

Tony laughed, startling him. "Oh, Gibbs you have no idea. McGee is not as innocent and mild mannered as he looks. He just hides it really well. Hell, he's dating Abby." He shrugged in concession. "And he's been working for a notorious mobster. I'm sure he's got a broader vocabulary that he doesn't use except for special occasions." As if on cue, Tim's curses grew more colorful. "See."

He laughed as Holly joined him. He slid an arm around her waist feeling happier and at peace than he had in a very long time.

They might not be related by blood, but Tim and Tony were like family to him. And Abby, as strange as she was, was like a daughter to him. He had even come to like the guarded Palestinian singer even if he didn't fully trust her. They were a motely group but they were his family now.

And Christmas was for family.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm not sure when the cold and snow gave way to the warm weather, so I took some liberties with the rain. So just weeks after one of the largest snowfalls in Washington's history, they had a warm spell. The high that day was 68 degrees and to this day is the 4th warmest Christmas day that Washington has experienced. I figured that they had the fire lit for the ambiance, not because they needed the heat.


	25. Chapter 24 - Losses

**Chapter 24 – Losses**

 _Tim McGee_

* * *

 _Late January 1933_

"Come on Tony," he said chiding his partner as he stood by the door to their apartment.

"McGee, it is six in the morning," Tony said grumpily from his bedroom. "Why on earth do you want to leave this early?"

"I don't _want_ to leave this early," he retorted. "But if we don't leave now, it'll take forever to get to the office with the snow and I have a ton of work to do."

"You know for being a double agent, you sure are a model employee for Mr. Napolitano," Tony said sourly as he entered the living room still buttoning his shirt. "Jimmy has got people who aren't trying to take him down who don't work even half as hard as you do."

He frowned. Ever since they had started tipping the Bureau about Jimmy's network, his hours at the office had slowly increased until it was like he was working two full time jobs. It was a testament to how much impact their raids had on Jimmy's network and how much Jimmy trusted him to run his business.

"Thanks," he said as Tony pulled on his coat. "Make me feel even worse," he said sourly.

"That wasn't what I meant," Tony retorted as he reached the door and collected his overcoat. "I meant you're overcompensating for your guilt."

"You think I'm overdoing it?" he asked.

"Yes," Tony retorted emphatically.

He frowned as he thought about his actions over the last month.

"But am I over-overdoing it?" he asked.

"I don't know what that means," Tony said with a sigh as he pulled on his coat. "It's way too early and I haven't had my coffee yet, McGee."

"I mean," he said. "Does it seem like I'm overdoing it because I feel guilty? Or does it seem like I'm overdoing it because I'm dedicated?"

"Does it matter?" Tony asked annoyed.

"Yes," he retorted. "Because if it's the former, it could get me made as the mole. If it's the latter, then it means I'm just trying to help in a bad situation."

Tony relaxed. "I dunno McGee," he said. "You know Napolitano better than I do. Do you think he suspects anything?"

"Not that I can tell," he replied. "Come on. There were more raids last night. I know it's going to be a busy day and I don't want to be late to _Quicksilver_ tonight."

"Oh goody," Tony said as he opened their apartment door. "An early morning and a late night."

"What are you complaining about?" he asked as they left their apartment, locking the door behind them. "You can take a nap while I'm working and you get to see Ziva tonight."

Tony frowned but didn't say anything as he walked down the hall towards the elevator.

"Tony?" he asked as he hastily hurried to catch up to his partner. "Did something happen?" he asked as Tony hit the call button for the elevator. "Tony?" he asked in concern.

"Ziva isn't actually speaking to me right now," Tony admitted finally.

"What?" he asked. "Why?"

But before Tony could answer, the elevator door opened. Pringle stepped out and held the door open for them.

"Morning Boss," Pringle said. "Mr. DiNozzo."

"Pringle," he said with a sigh as he entered the elevator. "What did I tell you about calling me Boss?"

"That I shouldn't," Pringle replied.

"Why do you call him boss?" Tony asked as he entered the elevator.

Pringle joined them and closed the elevator door. "Because he works for Mr. Napolitano," Pringle said as if it were obvious. "Which kinda makes him my boss."

He glanced at Tony. They had long suspected that the doormen were on Napolitano's payroll as additional security but they hadn't suspect that Dallas and Pringle were being paid by Napolitano.

"You're employed by Mr. Napolitano?" Tony asked.

"Not strictly," Pringle replied. Tony stared at Pringle until the young man withered. "I don't get paid but the boys out front are and they asked us to keep an eye on your floor. You know, make sure that no one is acting suspiciously. We're supposed to give them the heads up as an extra layer of security."

"I see," Tony said, relaxing slightly.

"What do you do for Mr. Napolitano?" Pringle asked eagerly. "You must be pretty important."

"You're better off not knowing," Tony said. "Start the elevator, Pringle."

"Yes, sir," Pringle said as he hastily worked the controls.

When they reached the ground floor, he stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. When he realized that Tony hadn't followed him, he turned back in time to see Tony talking to Pringle. The young man paled and nodded furiously. He rolled his eyes as Tony caught up to him, grinning. "What did you say to the poor kid?"

"I strongly suggested he keep his nose out of business that's above his pay grade," Tony replied.

"He's not being paid by Naps," he retorted.

"Exactly," Tony said as they left their lobby and stepped out into the snow.

"Keep warm, Dwayne," he said as they passed him. Dwayne, bundled in a heavy overcoat, scarf, hat and gloves nodded.

They hurried to their car and quickly brushed the few inches of snow from the hood and windscreen. They got inside and Tony started the car. For the first minute, the heater only blew cold air but by the time they reached the end of their street, the car had warmed nicely.

"Don't you dare say anything about that heater," he said as he saw Tony's grin. "Yes, I fully appreciate the special order."

"You say that like you're against ordering anything that isn't off the rack," Tony said as he looked at him. "You mean to tell me you've never special ordered anything?"

"Do suits count?" he asked.

"No," Tony replied. "Unless you're telling me you ordered special material."

He shook his head, as he thought. "No, I can't think of anything."

"You're missing out, McGee," Tony said as he hit a pothole, throwing him into the car door. He winced as his arm was crushed between his holster and the door.

"Wait," he said.

Tony hit the brakes. "What?" Tony asked in alarm.

"No, keep going," he said with a grin. "I just realized, I have special ordered something." Tony rolled his eyes. "My pistol," he said.

"You special ordered your pistol?" Tony asked.

"I'll explain when we get to the office," he said with a grin.

"Is it some super, crazy, top-secret, proto-type pistol?" Tony asked skeptically. "And if so, why didn't I know about it?"

"No, it isn't a Heat-Ray," he said wryly. Tony looked at him questioningly. "From _The War of the Worlds?_ " he said probingly. "H.G. Wells' story?" he asked.

"Never heard of it," Tony said. "Let me know when it's on the radio or made into a movie."

He rolled his eyes. "You're obsessed with movie's Tony," he said. "They'll never replace a good book."

"You keep your books, I'll take the movies," Tony said as he pulled into a parking spot in front of Napolitano's office. "Now what's this about your pistol?"

"I'm left-handed," Tim replied. "I had to special order it to have the safety on the opposite side." He drew his pistol and handed it to Tony. "See?"

"Oh yeah," Tony said as he traded the pistol from his left to his right hand. "Never thought about that. You've had that pistol for years."

He nodded. "I bought it when I was recruited into ONI," Tim replied as he slipped it back into his holster. "Special order."

He grinned but Tony wasn't nearly so amused.

Getting out of the car, he grabbed his briefcase and hurried through the cold with Tony on his heels.

"So why isn't Ziva talking to you?" he asked as they entered the office building, stamping the snow from their feet. Tony frowned. "You were hoping I had forgotten about that, hadn't you?"

"Kinda," Tony replied. "You know, I'm not entirely sure what happened."

Forgoing the elevator, they entered the stairwell and started walking.

"Things were going really well between you, I thought," he said. "You spent Christmas together and even shared a room."

"I told you," Tony said. "I slept on the couch."

"You did say that," he said even though he didn't believe his partner. There had been blankets on the couch the next morning but they were too neat. Either Tony made the couch up when he got up on Christmas Day or he hadn't actually slept on the couch. "You looked pretty stuck on each other at _Quicksilver's_ New Year's Party," he said.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "Things have been going great. Then last week, we were just talking in her dressing room and I guess I was being too evasive and she got mad. I wanted to know everything about her but I wasn't willing to share anything about myself. She called it a second standard."

"Second standard?" he asked as he stepped out into the lobby of his office.

"I'm pretty sure she means double standard," Tony replied. "And she's not wrong, Tim. You've heard the same rumors I have."

"That she's a spy for hire?" he asked. Tony nodded. "I don't believe it. She's been at _Quicksilver_ for almost a year, don't you think she would have found what she had been hired to find by now?"

Tony stared at him incredulously. "You really just asked me that?" Tony asked.

He stopped and thought for a moment. Suddenly it hit him that they had been under cover for almost two years in Tony's case. He smiled wryly at his partner.

"She told me that I should take some time to think about things and that If I can't be open with her, then she should no longer be open to discussing things with me," Tony finished. "Who knows when she'll start speaking to me again."

"Sorry, Tony," he said as he opened the door to the office.

"McGee!" Napolitano said, startling him. "Good! I'm glad you're here!"

Blinking in surprise, he was faced with Jimmy Napolitano. From the looks of things, it seemed like the portly man had been waiting for him to come into the office. On second glance, he realized that Jimmy might have been waiting for him since last night.

"Good morning, Mr. Napolitano," he said as he regained his composure. Movement to the left caught his eye where he saw Pale Dale sitting in one of the reception area chairs. He seemed paler than usual and like Napolitano, he seemed to be wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

"Whatcha do to Pale Dale, Mr. Napolitano?" Tony asked as he looked at the man.

"Nothing," Jimmy said. "We've just been talking." Dale's eyes widened alarmingly.

"I take it Ms. Stegman isn't in yet," he said. Dale shook his head. "Tony, Dale looks like he could use some coffee," he said. "Think you could make some up?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "I could use some too. Come on Dale."

"Bring us the pot when you're done, DiNozzo," Jimmy said. "I know I'm ambushing you, Tim but we need to talk."

"I can see that," he said. "After you, Mr. Napolitano."

He followed Jimmy to his office where he found many of the ledgers sitting on his desk.

"I take it something happened," he said dryly as he removed his coat and hat.

"Of course!" Jimmy said. "More raids last night."

"Have you been here since last night?" he asked.

"No, I enjoy wearing the same suit two days in a row," Jimmy retorted. "I'm sorry," Jimmy said quickly. "I'm a bit… perturbed by recent events and I only caught a few hours sleep in the lounge."

"What about Dale?" he asked.

"He came in a half hour ago," Jimmy replied. "I thought he might be you."

"And you were waiting at the door like you were for me," he said with a chuckle. "That explains why Dale looked paler than usual. Why did you spend the night at the office?"

Jimmy looked at him. "You mean you didn't know?" He shook his head. "There were more raids last night." He did his best to look surprised. "If you didn't know, then why are you in so early?"

"I wanted an early start," he said. "I was hoping to be able to leave a little early to spend some extra time with Abby tonight. I've been working so much lately, we haven't had much time together."

"Ah," Jimmy said. "Well I hate to burst your bubble, Tim, but we might be in for a long one."

"Well then, let's get to work," he said as he set his briefcase down. Jimmy nodded and collected his chair.

Soon they were neck deep in figures, inventory, and contingency plans. And none of it was looking too good. The raids last night were the latest well-coordinated strikes against Jimmy's network. Considering he was the one coordinating the raids, he wasn't surprised.

"You can curse all you want Jimmy," he said mildly. "But it doesn't change the bottom line. We've been at this for hours and math is math."

"Thanks," Jimmy said sourly as he looked at Tim. "Like I don't know that." He sighed. "If I hadn't known better, I'd say Fornell was the one doing us in. But he can't be. It feels like Fornell disappeared off the face of the planet. He certainly isn't anywhere in the tri-state area or the District."

"He's got to be long gone," Tim mused. Gibbs had told him that he had a safe house for Fornell but neither he nor Tony wanted any details. As far as he knew, only Gibbs and Leon Vance knew exactly where Fornell and his family was hiding. "I know I would be if it were me."

Jimmy snorted. "He's long gone all right," Jimmy said. "I still have associates looking for him but there's been nary a whisper about him. If Boone wasn't so pissed, I'd have thought he finished the job and just didn't tell me."

"Well he isn't telling me either," he said. "Then again, I don't think he likes me much. Not since DiNozzo belted him and I nearly put a bullet between his ribs."

Jimmy snorted. "I heard you about shot him," Jimmy said. He nodded. "Woulda served him right. Between breaking into your place and threatening your girl, no one would have blamed you for it."

"I know," he replied. "But it would have been more trouble than it was worth. Besides, I needed him to find Fornell. Too bad he failed."

"If Fornell knows what's good for him, he'll stay missing," Napolitano said. He looked at Jimmy in surprise. "I wouldn't want to be him if Boone catches up to him. If you think Boone is bad normally, can you imagine him with a grudge?" He frowned. "Yeah, I know. Boone's a nasty piece of work but he's got his uses."

"It does explain why you don't fire him," he said. Jimmy looked at him, questioningly. "I imagined Boone with a grudge."

Jimmy snorted but then looked disturbed.

"Some of these operations are new since Fornell vanished," Jimmy said, changing the subject. "And we're still getting hit by the cops," Jimmy said waving his hands in frustration. "At least when he was around, he had tipped us off to some of the raids. Now we don't even get that." Jimmy sighed. "It was a mistake to go after him. He wasn't our turncoat."

"Probably not," he said in agreement. "But for the record, I agreed with you. He seemed like the likeliest leak."

Jimmy snorted. "Yeah well, then we were both wrong."

He nodded. "And since he disappeared," he said as he glanced at his notes. "We've been hit from every angle and at almost every level."

"Almost?" Jimmy asked as he paused his pacing to look at him.

"Well they haven't come after you yet," he retorted.

Jimmy snorted and allowed a small smile to creep across his face. "I like how you can keep up your humor in the face of adversity, Timothy."

"It comes from living with DiNozzo for almost a year," he replied. "That man is better at sabotaging himself better than anyone I've ever met." Jimmy looked at him for an explanation. "I'm not sure what happened but he managed to make Miss David mad at him, again. She's not speaking to him."

"I wish I only had that problem," Jimmy said as he returned to his pacing. "I've plugged every possible leak, Tim."

"You have," he agreed.

"I've bribed every official in the Bureau who might know who's got it in for me," Napolitano continued.

"Yes."

"And I'm still getting hit like a freakin' piñata," Jimmy finished as he collapsed into the chair opposite of him.

"Since this started, I've been over the books a hundred times," he said. "I don't think just one person has turned. I think someone is getting information from multiple sources. Then he's putting the puzzle pieces together and tipping off the Bureau."

"Puzzle pieces?" Jimmy asked.

He took a deep breath and did his best to explain the investigative process as Gibbs had explained it to him when he first joined Gibbs' team. "Ok. When I worked at the Office of Naval Intelligence we wouldn't have any trouble finding the big things. Those usually jump out at you. It's the little things that take some digging to find. Most of the time, it isn't the obvious things that lead you to solving a case. People guard secrets; they don't guard the little things."

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't follow."

"Ok," he said changing tact. "Take one of my old cases for an example. ONI gets tipped off that a contractor is doing shoddy work to save money. First thing you do is confirm the tip. The work is shoddy; that's the big thing," Jimmy nodded. "Then, you start interviewing everyone at the company from the owner all the way down to the mail room clerk to find out what they knew and when they knew it."

"Right," Jimmy said nodding.

"Now the guys at the top, the ones that know they're doing shoddy work, they're going to be tight lipped. They know better than to say anything that will incriminate them. But the mail room clerk, he's pretty chatty."

"But what's the clerk going to know about the company operations?" Jimmy asked, puzzled.

He smiled. "Oh, he knows more than anyone at the top gives him credit for. And that's what makes him dangerous because he also doesn't know to keep his mouth shut. He's eager to please and he wants to prove that he's in the know. All he has to do is say the wrong thing to the investigator and next thing you know, ONI has the proof it needs to take down the whole company."

"So, you're saying I need to watch out for the mail boy?" Jimmy asked. "The closest thing I've got to a mail boy is the boys that run messages for me."

"Chip," he mused.

"None of them are named Chip," Jimmy replied without thinking.

"Oh, I know," he said hastily. "One of the boys that runs messages to Abby is named Charles something or other. Abby calls him Chip. He hates it."

"I can imagine why. So, my leak is this Chip?"

"Maybe not him exactly. It isn't a perfect analogy." Jimmy nodded. "It's no secret that you're in a business that's less than legal by the current laws." Jimmy snorted but didn't say anything. "But there is never any evidence to tie you to said illegal activities. The Bureau can't go after you but they can go after your businesses."

"And they have."

"Yes," he said brushing him off. "But our problem is to figure out how. It might be something as simple as someone talking about a routine delivery. We need to start our own investigation just like the Bureau. If we follow their footsteps we'll figure out where they're getting all their information and we can plug the leaks."

Jimmy sighed. "I like your dedication, Timothy. But I don't think we have the time to do an investigation like what you're talking about. We'd need an army of people asking all sorts of questions."

He shrugged. "That is the downside. They're only looking for the haystack while we're looking for the needle. And they have been investigating you for years. With the mountain of information, they have on you, someone could be connecting the dots. Hell, there might not even be a mole in your operation. They could just have a savvy new investigator in the Bureau."

"If so, he's staying anonymous," Jimmy said. "My inside source hasn't got a clue who is tipping the Bureau off about my businesses."

Jimmy stood up and started to pace again. He watched him without for nearly fifteen minutes while Jimmy tried to work out his problem. He didn't interrupt. After working with Jimmy for nearly a year, he knew that the man needed time to work out his problems.

He patiently waited for Jimmy to decide his course of action.

"I know when I'm beat," Jimmy said suddenly. He blinked at Jimmy in surprise. "You heard me right. I know when to throw in the towel."

"You'd quit?" he asked.

Jimmy smiled sadly. "I don't want to give up but the G-men are going to bleed me dry. I'll be in the poor house. That apartment I found you in will be a palace in comparison." He thought back to his last place and cringed. "I'm an old man, Timothy. I can't live like that. I'd rather cut my losses and enjoy my retirement."

"So, what are you saying, Jimmy?" he asked.

Jimmy took a moment to think. Then he looked at him, his decision made. "I want you to start consolidating my assets. It's time that I retire from the entertainment business."

"Retire?" he asked.

"You heard right," Napolitano said. "The timing might be right too. I'm sure you've heard the same things I have. There's a movement to repeal Prohibition and if they do, there won't be a need for my services."

"People will still want to go out for a drink, Jimmy," he countered.

"Yeah but they won't want to go to a club located in the basement of a factory," Jimmy replied. "No matter how nice it is, it ain't the Hay-Adams." He nodded. He couldn't argue against that. "I'd rather be ahead of the curve than behind the eight ball."

"I suppose," he said even as his mind raced but he couldn't settle on one thought before another pushed it out of his head. What would this mean for their case? What did Napolitano mean by consolidate his assets. What would happen to _Quicksilver_? Would they ever find the true mole? Was Jimmy going to skip town before they could arrest him. "Some would say now is the time to pivot and change your business direction."

"Some would," Jimmy replied. "But those men are far younger than I am, Tim. I'm not saying that we have a fire sale and get rid of everything! Some assets will be transferred to my son to provide for his future and I'm sure he'll want to keep some businesses for himself," Jimmy said with mild distaste. He smiled slightly as he realized that Jimmy was referring to the brothels that Little Ricky oversaw. "And there are a few trusted and loyal men that I would like to reward for their service to me."

"I see," he said.

"But I think I deserve some rest and relaxation after working since I was a little bambino," Jimmy said. He nodded in agreement. "I think that a change in location is required for my retirement," Jimmy finished.

"You better be going south," he said as he glanced through the door to the window in Jimmy's office. It was snowing again.

Jimmy chuckled. "I was thinking the same thing. Something tropical is called for. What do you think about Havana?"

He shrugged. "I've never been there."

But at once he was thinking about the logistics. Cuba was independent but the United States had been meddling in her affairs for years, which had led to political instability. Even in Europe, he had heard rumors of several uprisings in the last few years although none of them had been successful. He didn't doubt that Jimmy had the ability to navigate through an uprising and still come out on top.

"Oh, you are missing out my boy! When we get things ironed out, you'll have to visit. My family has a villa in Miramar, Ciudad de La Habana. Lovely neighborhood. Palm trees line the road. Fine restaurants. Great clubs. It's hard to ask for more."

"Well tropical doesn't sound so bad right now," he muttered. He didn't look back towards Jimmy's window or the snow that was flying by the glass. It was too depressing.

"There is a branch of the Bank of Nova Scotia near my family estate. Can you set up accounts with them from here?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't see why not," he said as he thought through the logistics. "I may need to put myself on your account until the transactions are completed. Once we're through, I'll remove my name."

"Sure thing, Timothy. I trust you," Jimmy said.

He looked at Jimmy. "That means a lot to me Jimmy. Really." In spite of Napolitano's ruthless business etiquette, he had come to respect his business mind. And he knew that trust, especially these days, was hard to come by. Granted, those trust issues were because of him and to a point he felt a little guilty about that. But then he remembered Fornell and his family and those feelings went away.

Mostly.

But not really.

Jimmy smiled sadly at him. "Ten months is too short of a business partnership, Timothy." Jimmy sighed. "You'll receive a substantial severance package, of course."

"Thank you," he said with a nod.

"It's the least I can do after all the hard work you've put in," Napolitano said.

"What about your properties?" he asked.

"Concerned about your bird's club?" Jimmy asked astutely.

"Among other things," he replied cautiously. "You own my apartment and I've become quite fond of living there."

Jimmy chuckled heartily. "I understand completely Tim, my boy!" Jimmy replied. "I'd want to know if my place was going to be sold out from under me too. We'll consider it part of your severance package."

"That's very generous of you, Jimmy," he said honestly pleased. Being deeded a luxury apartment would be nice compensation for years of undercover work.

"Whether you choose to let DiNozzo live with you will be your choice."

He shrugged. "I see no need to throw him out. He's grown on me," he replied.

"So does mold," Jimmy retorted. "Ah but what am I saying. If you could fall for the strange bird that runs _Quicksilver_ , then it should be no surprise that you'd make friends with your hired body guard."

"So, what will happen to clubs like _Quicksilver_?" he asked, pressing. He'd hate for Abby's club to be sold out from under her feet. The chances that the new owner would allow her to continue managing the club were slim. Even with her track record, women weren't often afforded business opportunities like running a first-class social club like _Quicksilver_.

"Some liquidation will have to occur," Jimmy replied. "But I think I'll hang onto some of my assets like _Quicksilver_. But we'll get to that in due time. It's going to take some time to consolidate my holdings and see that my properties are sold off to the right people. I'd hate to inadvertently help that slimy Frenchmen. No matter what we do Timothy, we do not allow the Frog to profit from my demise even if it means burning my empire to the ground. I'd rather see it destroyed than in his hands."

He nodded knowing that Jimmy was dead serious. And he knew that even if Jimmy wanted to preserve _Quicksilver_ , he would rather see it destroyed than in the hands of a rival.

"Very well," he replied. He carefully gathered up his notes and pulled out a fresh pad of paper. This was going to take a lot of effort. "Shall we get started?"

"Nah," Jimmy said as he looked at the clock. It wasn't quitting time yet but it was close. "We'll start fresh on Monday. That'll give me time to think about what I'd like to keep." He nodded. "But once we get started, I don't want to see you spending nights here. I didn't build my empire in a day and I don't expect you to dismantle it in that amount of time either."

"Of course not," he said. After the Jimmy shut the door, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. This was going to be interesting.

They had the evidence necessary to arrest Jimmy but they were holding out in hopes that they could take down Jimmy's high-ranked inside source. Worst case, they figured it was possible to get the source's name from Jimmy after he was arrested but it would require a deal and they didn't want that.

This was definitely a development that he needed to discuss with Tony and Gibbs.

Putting his glass back on, he began to clear up his desk.

When he was through, he grabbed his briefcase and made his way towards the lounge. Tony was playing cards with another man. From the layout on the table, it looked like they were playing Five-card Stud.

"Call," Tony said.

"Two pair," the other man said. "Jacks over threes."

"Hiding the pocket jacks," Tony mused before he lay his cards down. "Straight to the queen." The other man frowned as Tony picked up the pile of coins they had been playing for. "Hey Tim. Done already?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Getting in early paid off."

"Good," Tony said as he stood. "I want you to meet Jim Kidwell. Jim, this is Thom Gemcity." They shook hands. "He's Danny O'Donnell's replacement. If something happens and I'm not around, Jim is the guy that will go with you."

He nodded as he sized up Jim. The guy was fit and well-muscled and there was something about his haircut…

"Nice to meet you Mr. Gemcity," Jim said. "I know Tony doesn't select a backup lightly so I'm honored."

"There's good reason that Tony has his job, so I trust his instincts when selecting a backup," he said.

Tony grabbed his coat and hat.

"We'll pick this up again Monday and I'll take you for more of your pocket money," Tony said with a grin.

"We'll see," Jim replied.

They left the office and hurried outside.

"So that's who you found to replace Danny O'Donnell," he mused as they cleared the snow from the car. "His disappearance was a bit mysterious, wasn't it?"

"No," Tony replied. "He got pinched by Grenouille's men when he was trying to infiltrate one of his bootlegging operations. He turned up dead a few weeks ago. Poisoned. Ducky just made his ID when his landlord reported him missing after Danny didn't pay his rent."

"Well there are worse ways to go," he said even as he frowned. Danny had been Tony's usual fill in for the few days that he took off. Granted, those days were rare but frequent enough that he got to know Danny passably well and he was sorry to hear he had been killed. "So, Jim Kidwell is my new governess?"

"Oh uh," Tony replied as they got into the car. "Yeah. Good guy, former marine. I trust him with my life."

He got into the car. "You mean with my life," he said with a hint of a smile. A new body guard meant that he would have to be on guard to make sure he didn't do anything that might make him suspicious. And a new body guard meant that Tony was planning to actually take a day off.

"Never," Tony replied. After a second, he deflated. "Ok yes. I am trusting him with your life. But he is a good guy, Tim. He took this job working for Naps because he has two kids and any other job he's had couldn't pay as well. I've known him since I started working for Naps and I absolutely trust him."

"I know," he said while Tony pulled out into the road. "I know you wouldn't pick someone unless you absolutely trusted them."

"I don't plan on using him for a while yet so you have time to get to know him. If you don't like him, I'll start looking again," Tony said.

"I'll let you know," he said. "Do you know if Gibbs is going to be at _Quicksilver_ tonight?" he asked.

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Just answer the question," he said sternly.

"Yeah, I talked to him yesterday. He said he'd be there when I told him we were going tonight," Tony said suddenly concerned. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing bad," he said to alleviate Tony's immediate concerns. "But there's been a development."

"You're not going to tell me," Tony said dryly. He shook his head. "That's just mean."

He snorted but remained silent as they drove to _Quicksilver._ They parked a few blocks away and hurried to the entrance. As soon as they knocked, Simon opened the slot and let them inside.

"You're early today Tim," Simon remarked as they stamped the snow from their shoes. "Tony convince you to play hooky?"

"Not this time," Tim replied.

"He dragged me out of our apartment before six this morning," Tony said sourly.

"You took a nap," he countered causing Tony to shrug. "Gibbs isn't in yet, is he? I know he likes to come in early before the band starts."

"He's been here for the last hour," Simon said as he opened the door to the club. "Abby asked him to come by to look at something in her apartment."

"Great," Tim replied.

"In need of a handyman?" Simon asked.

"Mechanic," he replied. "We were hoping that Gibbs would give us his opinion before we took it to the shop. You can't trust most mechanics not to inflate the repair costs."

"Ain't that the truth," Simon said.

Nodding, they started down the stairs.

"You know it's disturbing how good you've gotten at lying since you took this job," Tony remarked.

"Tell me about it," he replied as they reached the club.

The main room was a hive of activity as various workers went about their jobs before the club opened for the night. Fresh tablecloths had been spread on the tables and a waitress was putting fresh candles in the table lamps. Burley was polishing the bar and took a moment to wave to them. The bass player was tuning his massive instrument before the others came out to warm up.

Passing through the club, they walked backstage and made their way up into Abby's apartment.

"Abby?" Tim called as he knocked on the door.

"It's open!" Abby called. Pushing the door open, they found Abby leaning against the bathroom door. She was already dressed for work and had on a gray cocktail dress with a black lace overlay overtop. Her hair was pulled up into the tight knobs on either side of her head and she wore red beaded necklace with matching drop earrings. "You're early," Abby said with a smile.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "Where's Gibbs?" he asked as he looked around. "Simon said he was up here."

"Down here," Gibbs said. He looked around Abby and saw Gibbs was lying on his back, working on Abby's sink. "I'm working on yet another sink."

"At least it isn't a men's room," Tony said with a grin.

"Something you need, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Had an interesting day with Jimmy," he said. Gibbs looked at him. "He's throwing in the towel."

Gibbs blinked in surprise and jolted. That loosened the bolt enough that the pipes separated, dousing him with water from the sink. Gibbs sputtered and sat up, wiping his face with his handkerchief.

"He's what?" Tony asked in surprise.

"Retiring," he reiterated. "He asked me to begin to consolidate his assets," Tim replied. "After all his losses, he's going to retire from the entertainment business."

"When?" Gibbs asked.

"Not any time soon," he said. "It could take me weeks to consolidate the funds he has tied up in his illegal businesses. But he wants to liquidate his clubs before the BOIs can take him down and before Prohibition is repealed." Abby opened her mouth to object. "He asked me to think that if there are better options if I really thought people would want to go a club in the basement of a factory, even if it is really nice."

Abby frowned but didn't argue.

"This is good, isn't it?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "We wanted to take him down. Consolidating his assets will make it easier to find everything when we arrest him."

"As long as he doesn't skip town first," Tony said. "Is he planning to skip town?"

"That's his plan," Tim replied. "His family has a home in Havana. He asked me to make arrangements to transfer his money there."

"What about _Quicksilver?_ " Abby asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know for sure yet. Naps said he was going to make some decisions over the weekend. He isn't going to get rid of everything and some assets he's going to leave to trusted associates."

"You asked, didn't you?" Tony asked wryly.

"Yes," he replied unapologetically. "But I also asked about our apartment," he added. Tony looked at him expectantly. "It's part of my severance package."

"Sweet," Tony said.

"Hey," Gibbs said. "You might not get to keep that apartment. If Naps bought it with laundered money, it could be seized." Tony's expression fell. "But we'll get to that eventually. Keep an eye on him Tim. If he looks like he's going to rabbit, you let us know."

"I know," he replied. "And I'll keep my ears open for anything on the mole. It'd be better to find out who it is before we have to cut a deal with Jimmy." Gibbs nodded approvingly.

"Your plan is working McGee," Tony said, pleased. "Way to go McGee!"

"Don't get cocky, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned. "Napolitano is vulnerable. That means he'll be a target of the BOIs and his enemies. We're not done yet. A lot of things can still go wrong."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** One of the more interesting issues I've had while writing this story is technology or the lack thereof. Tim makes reference to a Heat-Ray which was a very early version of a Ray Gun (which is what I had wanted him to say) or as we would know it from our modern science fiction, a phaser or a blaster. Science Fiction didn't really gain popularity until the late thirties and early forties. Buck Rogers was published in 1928 in the pulp magazine, _Amazing Stories_ and Flash Gorden's initial publishing date was January 7, 1934. Tim was overseas and likely wouldn't have gotten the _Amazing Stories_ magazine and he's been too overworked to read a comic book. So that pretty much leaves me with H.G. Wells as my source for Tim's science fiction geekery. All things considered though, Wells is still a good source.

With that, we're coming down to the end. Three more chapters to go before this fun ride is over. I'll leave you all with a quote from the esteemed Samuel L. Jackson from the original _Jurassic Park:_ "Hold onto your butts." :)


	26. Chapter 25 - Playing with Fire

**Chapter 25 – Playing with Fire**

 _Tony DiNozzo_

* * *

 _March 1933_

"Hey, McGee."

Tim looked up and saw Tony standing in the doorway. "Hey Tony. What can I do for you?"

"Still working huh?" he asked as he slowly entered Tim's office.

Tim looked down at the paperwork in front of him. "Yeah. These assets aren't going to move themselves."

He smiled slightly at that. "Even after a month? I thought you'd be done by now."

Tim snorted and leaned back in his chair, idly twirling his pen. "You have no idea how much work it has been."

"I think I have a pretty good idea, Tim," Tony replied. "You've been here more often than not for the last month." Tim shrugged in concession. Their plan was working. They wanted to drive Napolitano out of business and that meant more work for McGee. "And I understand why. It just stinks."

"I can't argue with that," Tim replied drolly.

"So, uh, well…"

"What's wrong?" Tim asked concerned.

He fidgeted like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He felt ridiculous for being nervous. And he felt _really_ ridiculous for being nervous to tell _McGee_ about his plans. Screwing up his nerve, he took a seat.

"Ok, so look," he said. "I have a date with Ziva. Like an actual real date at a real nice restaurant."

"You got her to talk to you again," Tim said in surprise.

"We've been talking for a little while," he countered. "You just haven't noticed because you've been too wrapped up with Abby when we're at _Quicksilver._ When are you two going to admit your dating?"

"We're not dating," Tim insisted.

"For not dating, you're sure doing the horizontal tango quite a lot," he countered.

"Don't change the subject," Tim said sourly. "When's this date?"

"It's tonight," he said to Tim's surprise. "I know, who goes on a fancy dinner date on a Wednesday?"

"That wasn't what I was going to ask," Tim said.

"But it was the first night that Abby could book a guest singer," he continued, ignoring Tim. "And I kinda don't want to wait because I don't want to risk making Ziva mad at me again. I know it's going to put you out but I really was hoping you wouldn't mind."

"Tony," he said. "It's fine. So, you want to pack me off to the apartment?" Tim asked as he leaned back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. "It's only four-thirty and in case you haven't noticed, I am pretty busy here."

He looked at Tim. He had a feeling his partner was objecting just for the sake of it. He was pretty sure that Jimmy wouldn't begrudge him an early day after all the work he'd put in lately. Liquidating Jimmy's assets and moving them off shore hadn't been easy especially when Tim had to keep track of them so that they could retrieve them after they arrested Jimmy. Fortunately, Jimmy had his retirement locale picked out all ready.

"I wasn't suggesting you leave," he said hastily. "But if you think you should, I could talk to Mr. Napolitano…"

"Tony," Tim said cutting him off. "It's fine," Tim emphasized. "I can leave whenever I want. It isn't like I'm not earning my pay." He nodded in concession. "Besides, Jimmy isn't here. He left at lunch and told me he wasn't planning to come back to the office."

"Oh," he said. "All right then. I'm going home to clean up and get ready. If you want you can come with but I'm going to have to bring Jim Kidwell with us anyway."

"Is there something I should know about?" Tim asked in alarm.

He shook his head. "No," he replied. "Nothing concrete, anyway. But you said that La Grenouille snapped up that club, _Santorini Villa_ , last week."

Tim nodded. "Jimmy is pissed but there isn't anything he can do about it. It's manager, Charles Harrow, sold it to Grenouille."

"I'm surprised Jimmy let him get away with it," he said in shock.

"He 'let' him get away with it because Harrow died of a heart attack," Tim replied with a snort. "But not before Harrow turned over the deed," Tim said. "There's nothing Jimmy can do about it!"

"Bad luck there," he said. "Anyway, Harrow might not be the only one who's thinking about jumping ship and grabbing you would be a good way to make nice with the Frog. So, either you stay and Jim Kidwell sees you home or you come home with me and Jim Kidwell comes with us."

"I'm surprised I didn't know about this date," Tim said.

"Oh," Tony said as he looked away. "Well I didn't want to risk jinxing it by telling you. You know the last time I planned a big date, I…"

"Stuck your foot in your mouth?" Tim offered helpfully.

"Yeah," Tony replied slumping.

"Have fun. You deserve a nice night out with Ziva," Tim said. "Besides, I'm going to be here late. I'm still sorting out the paperwork to transfer Napolitano's money elsewhere."

"You've been working on that for over a month. How long could it take?" he asked.

"I don't think you realize how much Napolitano has," Tim said with a sigh. "This is just the start. Even after he absconds to Cuba, I'll still need to work to get his operation shut down."

"Ok, whatever McDictionary. Absconds?" he said as he rolled his eyes and stood up.

"It means…"

"I know what it means," Tony said. "Jim is in the lounge. He'll see you back to the apartment and stay with you until I get home, which might be very late."

"Or tomorrow?" Tim asked slyly.

"I dunno," he said skeptically. Not only wasn't he sure that Ziva had forgiven him enough to get that far but he also wasn't sure he wanted to leave Tim alone for that long. He trusted Jim Kidwell to look after Tim but he trusted himself more. "We'll be at Valentino's if you need to get in touch with me. We have reservations for seven o'clock. But I hope that you don't."

"I hope that I don't either," Tim replied. "Enjoy yourself, Tony."

Nodding, he hurried back to the lounge where he checked in with Jim. Jim once again reassured him that he had everything in hand and that he and Tim wouldn't go anywhere but straight back to their apartment. After checking with him a third time, Jim told him to get moving or else he'd be late.

He hurried home and after washing, a fresh shave and putting on his best suit, he drove to Ziva's apartment, stopping along the way to pick up a bouquet of flowers. Initially he had planned to pick up some roses but he changed his mind when he saw a bouquet of crocuses. He had noticed the flowers pressing up through the ground as a sure sign that spring was coming. A bouquet of the flowers could be a sign of a renewal in their relationship… friendship… whatever it was.

Ziva lived in a boarding house several blocks from _Quicksilver_. When she first took the job, she only had enough to rent a room. But with _Quicksilver's_ success, she had upgraded to an apartment on the top floor. He quickly made his way up to her floor but before he knocked, he took a moment to straighten his suit.

Within moments of knocking, Ziva opened the door and any words he had in greeting were caught in his throat.

"Tony," she said. But when he didn't say anything, she looked worried. "Do you have a frog in your throat?"

"No," he said hastily. "But a cat has my tongue," he said with a charming smile. Unfortunately, Ziva only looked more confused. "It means, your beauty has me speechless," he said.

"Oh," she said clearly pleased.

He looked her over. Ziva was wearing a creamy, floor-length gown. The upper part of the dress was overlaid with black lace and it was sleeveless and had a deep vee-neckline. As she turned around, he realized that the vee-neck plunged at her back to nearly her waist.

"For you," he said as he held out the bouquet.

"They're lovely," Ziva said as she stepped into her apartment.

He followed her inside and looked around. It was small but comfortable for one person. But he had barely had a chance to look around before Ziva returned with a vase and a lace stole. She put the flowers in water and set them into a glass coffee table before wrapping the lace stole around her shoulders.

"Shall we?" she asked.

Nodding, he helped her into her coat and escorted her to his car.

They drove through town to Valentino's Restaurant where they were shown to a private table with a scenic view of town. The meal was one of the best he had in a long time and the conversation with Ziva was kept to light topics, which surprised him a little. He had expected her to pry more into his background.

"This has been a lovely evening, Tony," Ziva said as she finished the last of her cheesecake. "I am very glad I chose to forgive you in time for this night. It is nice to spend an evening away from _Quicksilver_ with a handsome man."

He smiled broadly as he toyed with the remainder of his dessert. "See now you're just saying that to flatter me."

"I cannot say that I find you handsome?" she asked with a coy smile.

"No," he replied cautiously. "You are more than welcome to call me handsome, debonair, charming, classy…"

She laughed. "Perhaps you should just have stopped with handsome," she said. She winked at him.

He put a hand to his heart theatrically. "That hurts Ziva. If you didn't find me all those other things, then why did you agree to dinner with me? I've only been asking you out on a real date for two months."

"Real date?" she asked. "What about…"

"The dinners at _Quicksilver_ , Christmas dinner at my place and the night dancing on New Year's Eve?"

"Yes," she said with smile.

"Ok so those were real dates," he admitted. "And they were swell. But this is a real _nice_ date. You get to get all dressed up, I got my shoes shined and someone else cooks a nice dinner for us with white linen table cloths, and even candles." She smiled at him. "This is a real, fancy date."

"Your persistence is admirable," she said with a smile.

He smiled roguishly. "Well, DiNozzos don't know the meaning of the word 'quit.'" She looked at him, confused. "It's a phrase. I know what 'quit' means. But when there is something or someone worth pursuing, I don't give up." He examined her.

"Perhaps I do not mind being seen out and about with a handsome man. Perhaps it has nothing to do with you personally," she said with a sly smile.

He smiled and shook his head. She was being feisty tonight. "Yeah, except that you don't seem like the type of woman to base relationships off looks alone. You're too smart." He smiled at her. "I've been wondering. You are a beautiful woman, Ziva. You could have any man you want, so why me? I mean aside from my devilish good looks."

"Isn't the answer to your question obvious?" she asked evading him.

"No," he said, refusing to be distracted by her flattery. "It's been almost a year since we first met. And I've seen you flirt with more than a few men but that's it. Why does it feel like you're waiting for me?"

She looked thoughtful. "I find you to be an interesting man," she said finally. He motioned for her to continue. "I have known you for almost a year and yet I find that I know little about you. You are guarded. I doubt that you let anyone see your true self. I am intrigued enough to want to learn more. To do so, I must spend time with you. Perhaps it was a vain hope that I might finally learn more about you."

"Oh, so I'm intriguing," he said as he leaned forward. Every time the conversation had turned towards himself, he had deflected the discussion so that he could protect his undercover identity. But he could see how that would make him intriguing.

"I like a challenge," she said with a smile. "Although, I will admit that I have been frustrated at times."

"I've noticed," he said. "What would you like to know?" he asked.

"Well," she said. "You are obviously an educated man, more so than you try to let on. McGee said that you attended Ohio State University. I do not understand why you hide your education. It is something of which you should be proud. Not everyone attends University."

"I know." He looked at her critically. "I've never been one for working at a desk even though I am 'educated,' as you call it. I like the hands-on work. It might be a little different form of hands on work than I would prefer but with the way things are in this country, beggars can't be choosers. I've got a steady job, a good home and good friends. What more does a guy need other than a good girl, which I'm currently working on right now. But that's not all you're curious about."

She smiled at him pleased. "I find your friends to be intriguing as well. That Doctor is an odd man but friendly enough. His assistant is sweet but naïve. Timothy does not strike me as the type to take up the criminal life. He is too much of a goody tutu."

"Two shoes," he corrected. "Goody two-shoes." he frowned. "Well some situations call for one to do what is necessary to get by. Tim found himself in that situation. Doesn't mean he likes this life."

Ziva nodded. "I suspected as much but he does like Abby. They made an odd but very happy couple. They seem to be soul mates." He snorted. "What is so strange about that?"

"Nothing. But if you ask them, they aren't dating," he replied.

"It would seem to me that they are," Ziva said in confusion. "But then again, I am still not accustomed to the courting culture of this country."

"Nah, you aren't confused. I think they're just afraid of calling a spade a spade." Ziva looked at him in confusion. "Never mind," he said. "I also find it ironic that Tim found her there…" Tony paused. "I didn't expect Tim to fall in love with the owner of a club either. As you said, he's a goody two-shoes. I suppose Tim is an enigma to me even after all this time."

She smiled. "Gibbs is also an enigma. I am surprised that you are friends with him and the loyalty you show each other is impressive."

Tony shook his head. "He's saved my life a few times. If you had known that, then you wouldn't be so surprised. Maybe we are a strange group but strange times make for strange bedfellows."

Ziva looked scandalized. She breathed, "You three are…"

"What?" he asked. "No! No. Definitely not. It's an idiom. You know one of those things that you have trouble with?"

"I have not heard this one then," she said relaxing slightly.

"It means that if not for our employment situation, Gibbs, Tim and I wouldn't be friends because we are so different from one another. But Tim was hired by Napolitano as his accountant and I happened to be assigned as his body man and we got to know Gibbs through the club."

"I see. I am glad it is not what I first thought," she said.

"Me too," he replied with a laugh.

"So, you are connected through Mr. Napolitano," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "Strange to think that I'd find my best friend and have a mobster to thank for it."

She looked at him appraisingly. "I find it difficult to believe that Mr. Napolitano is responsible for your friendship with Gibbs and McGee."

"Huh?" he asked.

"I am not the only one with a mysterious past," she said. He shook his head. "Blue tells me you recently immigrated from Italy but most times you have no accent. Unless," she said pointedly. "You are around Mr. Napolitano or his men. And that does not fit with what McGee told me about your attendance at that Ohio University."

"Yeah, you got me," he said thinking fast. "I told Mr. Napolitano I was fresh off the boat because I thought it would help me get a job," he said. "You know, one Italiano helping another? If he knew my mother's side of the family was from England and I grew up in New York, I doubt he'd have been so helpful."

"So, you lied to obtain a job?" she asked skeptically.

"That's right," he said. "And I went to _The_ Ohio State University. It's actually part of the name."

"What is?" she asked.

"The," he replied. She still looked confused. "Never mind. It isn't important. You're not going to rat me out, are you? I kinda like my job and I'm pretty sure Tim would hate to have to break in a new shadow after so long. Plus, I really don't want to move out of my apartment."

"I will keep this information to myself, if you tell me something," she said. Suddenly Ziva got a look in her eye that worried him. It was like the cat that ate the canary. She lowered her voice so that her words would only be heard at their table. "I would like to know why three government agents are working for Mr. Napolitano."

He blinked in confusion. How on earth could she know that? But then his mind raced again as he tried to figure out how to talk his way out of this.

"Three government agents?" he asked playing dumb.

"Gibbs, McGee and yourself," she said. He shook his head, feigning innocence. "Do not play me for a fool, Tony. We are both too smart for that."

"Just what government agency do you think we're a part of?" he asked trying to buy some time. "And why would we work for a mobster if we already have a job?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Tony," she said. "I was a spy. Do not try to pull the wool over my eyes." He frowned. Go figure she'd get that idiom correct. "As were the three of you. You worked to steal foreign naval technology. I believe you spent most of your time in Italy although you did spend time in France and Spain. I have also been told Morocco but I do not think that is right."

"Whoever has been telling you these things is pulling your leg Ziva," he replied.

"Just as whoever told you that I was a spy was pulling your leg?" she asked sweetly. He frowned. She had confirmed that she had been a spy so this was her way of calling his bluff. He looked out the window as he tried to figure out how she could know they had been overseas. Their program at ONI was so secret only a handful, including themselves, knew about it. "You need not worry how I came to have this information just that I have it."

"I will worry about how you came across this information because if you found it, then that means that someone else could find it," he countered. She smiled triumphantly as she realized he had essentially admitted that she was right. "But we'll get back to that. Right now, I'm more worried about what you would do with this information than how you came across it," he said.

He was already thinking about what he might have to do now that Ziva seemed to know what he was. He was armed but he doubted that he could get her out of the restaurant quietly. And looking at her, he could see that she had counted on that.

"Tony," she said. "I have no desire to pass this information to Mr. Napolitano." She looked him up and down. "It would be a terrible waste."

He frowned. "You make me feel as valuable as a side of beef." Ziva looked confused. "Are you telling me this because you want more out of our relationship? You've been trying to seduce me for almost a year."

"Which I find strange. You don't seem like the type to resist a woman's advances," Ziva said smiling sweetly. But he frowned, which wiped the smile from her expression. "No," she said firmly. "I am not telling you because I want you to sleep with me. Although, as I've made clear, I am not against the idea nor do I think, are you."

"Then why are you telling me?" he asked, relieved that she wasn't going to blackmail him into sleeping with her. "And for that matter, why did you dig up this information?"

"You were caged," Ziva said.

"Being cagey," he corrected without thinking.

"Yes, that," she said. "Any time I asked you about yourself, you avoided telling me anything! _Even,_ " she said emphatically. "After I told you about my history, as unpleasant as it is." Ziva motioned to him. "You investigated me. I investigated you. Turnaround is only fair."

"Turnaround is fair play," he said as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. On one hand, he didn't blame Ziva at all. He _had_ been evasive with her. Evidently that had made her curious enough to put her skills as a spy to use and evidently, she had been successful.

"Imagine my surprise to find out that you are not who you claim to be," Ziva said. "Although I will admit, it was quite the challenge to find the truth. It has taken me almost a whole year."

"Wait," he said his eyes snapped open and he looked at her again. "You've been investigating us since the first time we met?"

"Yes," Ziva said. "A girl must be cautious when determining who she would spend time with, especially when that man works for a man like James Napolitano. You will be glad to know that for the first six months I only found what you wanted anyone to find."

"Great," he said sourly. This was not how he had imagined this night going.

"Tony," she said as she took his hand in hers. "You do not have any reason to worry," she said. "I care for you Tony and I would prefer that you remain undamaged. If I would tell Mr. Napolitano what I know, then that would not be the case."

He snorted. If Napolitano found out what they were, Terry Spooner's fate would be a step upward. "You have no idea," he replied dryly.

"Actually, I do," she said softly. He blinked and not for the first time, he wondered what Ziva had done in her lifetime. "I have been involved with the downfalls of many men and I have no desire to be the architect of your deaths. I only wish to have a place to sing and since you have not closed _Quicksilver_ yet then I doubt that you have a need to do so." He shook his head. "And there is something else."

"What?" he asked apprehensively.

"I care for you Tony. Perhaps it is a selfish reason but it is also why I will not go to Mr. Napolitano," she said softly.

He smiled wanly. He wanted to believe her. But she could be telling the truth and still do something terrible with that information. She could turn them over to La Grenouille, for example. But he still couldn't shake the bad feeling that if she knew, someone else could know too.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

"I was able to confirm it shortly after the New Year," she replied. "Are you trying to take out Mr. Napolitano?"

"Down. Take down is to arrest him. Take out would be to kill him," he said. She nodded, accepting his clarification. "And not here. We can talk about this at my place as much as you'd like."

"Very well then," she said. "I will hold you to it." He nodded. "Does that mean our conversation is over?"

"For now," he replied. "I think it's time we go back to my apartment."

She smiled slyly but before she could reply their waiter approached their table.

"Excuse me Mr. DiNozzo, I have a message for you," he said. "From a Timothy McGee." Startled he motioned for the waiter to give the message. The waiter nodded. "He said that Mr. Gemcity's presence was requested at Jimmy's apartment and that you should contact him as soon as possible regarding a very important opportunity in the pizza business."

"Pizza?" he asked alarmed.

"That is what he said," the waiter said. "I can assure you, our maggiordomo copied his message word for word."

Alarmed, he looked at Ziva. "I have to go. Tim is in trouble."

Startled, she asked, "Because of a pizza business?"

"It's not a pizza business," he said. He pulled out his wallet and thrust money at the waiter. He knew it was too much but he didn't have time to wait for the bill. "This is for our dinner and a taxi for Miss David." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll call you as soon as I can. We need to finish our conversation."

"Yes," she said confused. "We do."

But he didn't look back at her. His thoughts were on his partner and the knowledge that Ziva had discovered them. Why had Naps asked to see Tim this late on a Wednesday? Had he learned that they were G-men? Had Naps turned Tim over to Boone? Was his partner being tortured even as he ate a pricey meal with a spy turned nightclub singer?

Tony hurried to the front desk. "I need your phone," he said. "It's an emergency."

The maggiordomo looked at Tony. "I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a public phone," he said in heavily accented Italian.

"You don't understand," he said as he pulled back his coat to reveal his pistol. "It is an emergency."

Alarmed, the man nodded and pointed towards a small room just off the entrance. "It's there."

He brushed past the man and into the tiny room. He picked up the phone and without waiting for the operator he said, "Connect me to Washington 52105."

"Right away," she said.

A moment later the phone was picked up. "Randolf's Garment Factory," a voice said.

"Blue," he said recognizing the man's voice. "Is Gibbs in the club tonight? It's Tony."

"Tony? Yeah. I saw him. He's with his lady though. They aren't sitting at Abby's table. I think he's here on a date."

"Well at least I won't be the only one who has to break his date tonight. Tell him that McGee went to Jimmy's regarding a pizza shop. I'm on my way there now."

"Pizza shop?"

"Just tell him Blue. He'll know what I mean," he said as he hung up without waiting to hear what Blue had to say. He hurried outside and collected his car.

Unfortunately, he and Ziva were at a restaurant on the other side of town and for whatever reason, traffic was insufferable. He silently fumed as he crawled at a snail's pace through the city streets to Jimmy's place. When he neared the building, he hastily pulled over to the curb when he saw the bright orange firelight lighting up the night sky.

Startled, he got out of the car and ran down the street sliding to a stop when he realized that there were fire trucks parked outside of Jimmy's apartment building. They were frantically trying to spray water on the fire that had burst out of the windows of an apartment on the top floor. Blinking, he realized that was Jimmy's apartment.

Without thinking, he tried rushing into the building but a fireman caught him by the arm.

"Where do you think you're going, son?" he asked.

"My friend is in there. In that apartment," Tony replied.

"Well God help him if he's still in there," the fireman replied. "The residents of the building are over there. You might want to check to see if your friend is there before you get yourself killed trying to find him."

He glanced at the building again then nodded. Without another word, he hurried over to the huddled group of people, many clad only in their nightclothes. He searched through the faces looking for McGee as the firemen handed out blankets to combat the cold March air. He walked through the crowd three times before he was convinced that Tim wasn't among them. Nor did he see Jimmy Napolitano or James Kidwell.

It was possible that after escaping the apartment, Napolitano and McGee had gone elsewhere, especially if the fire was due to an attempt on their lives. But when he asked several residents about Napolitano, no one could say that they saw him leave the building.

Suddenly he caught sight of the building's doorman. Like their building, he was burly and fit and looked more like a bouncer than a doorman. He wasn't a betting man, but he had good money that the doorman worked for Mr. Napolitano.

"Hey," he said catching the man's attention. "I need to ask you a question."

"I figured you'd be getting to me," the doorman said. "I heard you were looking for Mr. Napolitano."

He nodded and drew the man aside. "I work for him and I think you do too," he said.

The doorman nodded. "Lamar Finn," the doorman said. "I remember you. You were here last year about this time."

"Anthony DiNozzo," he said. "I'm impressed that you remember me."

"I remember everyone I meet," Lamar replied. "One of the reasons Mr. Napolitano hired me. I know if the same person is coming around time and again."

He nodded. "I'm sure the heat you're packing doesn't hurt either," he said. Lamar shrugged slightly. "Look, I need to know if you saw someone tonight. You would have only met him once but it was the same night I met you. He would have come into the building with Sal Balducci and Ian Hitch. Tall guy, little shorter than me. Brown trench coat, brown hair and round glasses?"

"Yeah," Lamar said. "I remember him. He didn't come in through the front door tonight."

"Through the front door?" he asked picking up on the man's distinction.

"Yeah," Lamar said. "Jimmy has a key to the stairwell. He uses it when he wants to have meetings at his place without anyone seeing his guests."

"So, you don't know if Jimmy had guests tonight," he said.

Lamar shook his head. "I only saw residents tonight. But Mr. and Mrs. Brooks tell me that they heard shots tonight." He looked at Lamar meaningfully. "They have the apartment directly below Mr. Napolitano's. They called the police but before they could arrive, a passerby stopped and pointed out the fire. I was focused on evacuating the residents after that."

"You're sure that Jimmy was in?" he asked.

"He's been in since early this afternoon," Lamar confirmed. "He seemed agitated and stressed. Well more than usual and that's saying something. With all the raids…" He held up a hand to indicate that he understood. "He didn't come out the front but that doesn't mean he didn't leave through the stairwell. I haven't seen Mr. Napolitano since I let him into the building this afternoon."

"Thanks," he said as he noticed Gibbs standing at the fringe of the onlooking crowd.

"Gibbs," he said as he joined his boss.

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs asked.

He shook his head as he returned his gaze to the apartment building. "I don't know. I had a date with Ziva tonight. I left Jim Kidwell in charge of his security." Gibbs stared at him. "It was my night off," he added feebly.

Gibbs turned his gaze to the building. He could see that Gibbs knew that it was Napolitano's apartment too. "Is…"

"He's not with the residents from the apartment," he replied anticipating the question. "Napolitano isn't there either and the doorman says Jimmy's downstairs neighbors heard gunshots before the fire broke out."

"We'll just have to wait for the firemen to do their work then," Gibbs said.

For hours, they stood in the cold watching as the firemen battled the flames. Every once in a while, one of them would stop by and shake their heads. By now they knew that the two men were anxiously awaiting word about a missing friend.

While they watched as the firemen brought the fire under control, he told Gibbs about his conversation with Ziva. Just as he had been, Gibbs was alarmed that she had learned their secret. And he was only moderately relieved that she didn't seem to have any intention to turn them into Napolitano. Although, Gibbs did point out that given the fire, that it might not be an issue any longer.

After he caught Gibbs up on recent events, Gibbs left for a time and returned to their apartment but a shake of the head told him that Tim wasn't there. "He's not at Napolitano's office either," Gibbs added as he returned to watching the fire. "It's possible that they went to ground, DiNozzo. If so we'll just have to wait for McGee to contact us." He nodded unhappily. "He'll do so as soon as he can."

"If he can," he muttered. Gibbs looked at him questioningly but he shook his head. "I'm going to call _Quicksilver_. Maybe he went there," he said. Luckily, he found a phone booth nearby and called _Quicksilver_ again. But Blue confirmed that Tim hadn't gone to the club. Halfway through the conversation, Abby hijacked the phone and demanded to know what was going on.

He tried his best to calmly explain to her that Tim was missing but as soon as she heard that Napolitano's apartment was on fire, she grew hysterical and Blue had to take the phone from her. Blue hastily apologized and ended the call so he could take care of Abby. He had felt her heart breaking through the phone and he prayed that McGee would turn up, even as he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he wouldn't.

So, he returned to watching the fire. By dawn the flames were out and the building had cooled enough for the firefighters to search for victims. It wasn't long after they had started searching, however, that they called for the coroner. Tony exchanged a dark look with Gibbs.

They waited until Ducky appeared with his young assistant. He and Gibbs hurried to Ducky's side but was accosted by the firemen.

"It's all right, my boy. I know this man," Ducky said as he recognized Gibbs. A moment later Ducky noticed him standing in the background. "Although I don't understand why they are here, per se."

"Our Boss lives in that apartment," Gibbs said. Ducky's eyes widened. "And Tim was visiting last night. We can't find him."

"You think he was inside?" Ducky asked.

"I know he was inside," he said. "I just don't know if he got out."

"I'll let you know what I find," Ducky said as he motioned for Jimmy to follow him.

They spent a tense hour waiting until Ducky emerged, covered in soot. He spoke with the firemen and then they collected several stretchers.

"Ducky?" he asked as he approached them.

He sighed and coughed lightly. "Three bodies, all badly burned. The fire appears to have started in Napolitano's apartment in the office," he said as he took off his glasses. Gibbs took them and cleaned them with his handkerchief. "Thank you. As I was saying, three bodies. One is certainly James Napolitano. It is his general build and body type and I found a pocket watch with his name engraved inside."

"What about the other two?" Gibbs demanded.

"Patience Jethro," he said. "I do not have a positive identification for the other two bodies. We may never be able to positively identify them. The fire did its work to conceal their names."

"There's got to be something," he said.

"I was not through," Ducky said. "But I appreciate your concern for your friend. Whoever these men were, they were fighting one another. All three bodies had bullet wounds, two of which were fatal. Napolitano was shot several times in the chest. The second victim was only shot once but it appears to have struck an artery."

"And the third?" Gibbs asked.

"A single shot to the left shoulder. The bullet is lodged against the scapula and while it was certainly painful, it was not fatal," Ducky continued.

"So, the fire got him?" he asked.

"No," Ducky said to his surprise. "I can't say for sure without an autopsy but I would say that he drowned. Although I doubt his passing would have been quick. The smoke may have suffocated him."

"Drowned?" Gibbs asked.

"How do you drown in a fire?" Tony asked confused.

"He had a punctured lung," Ducky said. "And his lung was filled with blood."

"What caused that wound?" Gibbs asked.

"The four-inch blade that was lodged in his chest. Which is odd," Palmer said as he joined them.

"Who brings a knife to a gun fight?" he asked for Palmer. Jimmy nodded. "Rule number nine," he said as he glanced at Gibbs. Gibbs' frowned.

"Rule number nine?" Jimmy asked confused.

"Always carry a knife," Gibbs said.

"Tim carried such a large knife?" Ducky asked.

"Always," Gibbs replied.

"Oh dear," Ducky said as he glanced upwards.

"Ducky, were their guns found?" he asked.

"Yes," he said. "Why?"

"If one of them was McGee's piece, I'll know it. And I'll know if it was his knife too," he replied. "Can you get me close enough to see them?"

"Of course," he said. "But only one of you," Ducky said as Gibbs tried to follow. Gibbs looked at him then nodded. Ducky led the way through the crowds over to a police van. He spoke to an officer who nodded. He pulled a box out of the back seat and handed it to Ducky.

He took a deep breath then looked inside the box. He didn't recognize the first two pieces that he pulled from the box but the third…

He blinked in shock.

"I take it that you recognize that weapon," Ducky said.

"That's McGee's pistol," he said.

"It looks like any other weapon. How can you tell it is his?" Ducky asked.

He shook his head. "McGee is left handed. This weapon was modified for him. He had to special order it. We had this whole discussion about special ordering. This gun was the only time he had ever special ordered anything." He placed the weapon into the box and pulled out the knife. "And that's his knife. He bought it in France but the knife is Toledo steel."

"Then it is excellent quality," Ducky said. "Toledo is world renown for the high-quality steel blades produced there."

"Tim liked it because it was small and easy to conceal," he said as he replaced the knife. "You know McGee, Ducky." Ducky nodded. "Could either of the unidentified bodies be him?"

"It is possible," Ducky said heavily. "They were both the same height but I can't tell you much about the build. There wasn't much left of them because of the fire. The gun was found near the body nearest to the door with the single gunshot wound to the chest."

"Something happened," he mused. "Tim stabbed Kidwell with his knife and shot Napolitano. But Kidwell wasn't down for the count and he shot Tim as he tried to flee."

"It certainly seems plausible," Ducky said. "I may never be able to determine who died first but with some time I might be able to confirm their identities. I won't say for certain until I do an autopsy, however."

He sighed heavily. "Thanks Ducky."

"I'm sorry Anthony," Ducky said. "I know that you two were very close."

"Best friends," he said. "Thanks Ducky."

With a heavy heart, he returned to where Gibbs was standing with Jimmy Palmer. He knew without saying a word that Gibbs knew it was McGee's weapons. Gibbs closed his eyes and when he opened them, Gibbs looked at him.

"He's not dead until I say he is," Gibbs said. "We keep looking for Tim until we've exhausted every last place he could be. Tony, you find Ziva. Find out if she knows anything about this."

"You think she told Naps?" he asked.

"I don't know," Gibbs said. "But if she did…" Gibbs trailed off but he looked at the burned building. He followed Gibbs' gaze and nodded. If Ziva had told Naps, Napolitano could have confronted Tim.

Suddenly Gibbs turned on his heel and left.

"Gibbs," he called as he hurried to catch up to the man before he got into his truck. "Where are you going?"

"To find Boone," Gibbs said darkly. "If anyone else was in the room when Naps confronted Tim, it would have been him," Gibbs said as he pulled the door shut.

He backed away hastily and watched as Gibbs pulled into the street. He watched for a moment before he looked at Napolitano's soot-stained apartment building one last time. He shook his head and turned away.


	27. Chapter 26 - A Man Down

**Chapter 26 – A Man Down**

 _Gibbs_

* * *

He left Jimmy Napolitano's apartment which was in one of the more affluent neighborhoods in town and drove through working-class neighborhoods, past families and children who were just starting to walk to school. He eventually crossed the Anacostia and entered a black neighborhood where he drove to a modest but neatly kept home.

Just as he arrived, a woman stepped outside with a young boy and a slightly older girl. The girl had a lunch pail and a few books bound with a leather strap.

He parked in front of their house and got out of his truck, attracting more than a few stares.

The woman looked at him then spoke to a neighbor who was also out with her young child. The neighbor nodded and took the girl by the hand, leading her off to school.

"That's not a good look," the woman said.

"It hasn't been a good night," he said. "Good to see you Jackie. Is Leon in?"

"He just got home. They have him working the night shift," Jackie replied. "He's cleaning up now. I was about to cook his breakfast before he goes to bed."

"I need to talk to him," he replied.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Jackie asked. He shook his head. "Well then come on in. Coffee should be about ready. You look like you could use a cup."

In truth, he didn't want to delay but the thought of coffee after spending the whole night awake was too enticing.

Nodding, he followed Jackie inside. She sent Jared to play in his room and motioned for Gibbs to take a seat at the kitchen table. He sat down heavily and took off his hat.

Jackie set a cup of steaming black coffee in front of him before she disappeared.

He had downed nearly half of the strong coffee before she returned with Leon on her heels.

"Oh boy," Leon said when he entered the kitchen. Leon sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee while Jackie started to cook some breakfast. "What happened?"

"Napolitano is dead," he said cutting to the chase. Leon stopped with a cup of coffee half-way to his mouth. "Last night."

"What happened?" Leon asked.

He shook his head. "We don't know. Tim was called to Napolitano's apartment last night. Three bodies were pulled from the apartment this morning. All burned and all had gunshot wounds."

"DiNozzo and McGee are both dead?" Leon asked in shock.

"DiNozzo wasn't with McGee last night," he replied. "He left McGee with Jim Kidwell. He's one of Napolitano's men but he was a Marine. Both Tony and I vetted him and trusted him with Tim's safety." Leon frowned. "The coroner can't positively identify the bodies. I was hoping he came here."

Leon looked at his wife but they shook their heads.

"No," Leon said. "After Fornell was targeted, we agreed that you could use our home as a safe house because we're not connected to you or your mission. But until you arrived, it was a quiet morning."

"The fire and Napolitano's death probably haven't hit the papers yet," he said as Jackie put some bacon into a pan.

"Were there signs that something was going wrong?" Leon asked.

He shook his head and shrugged.

"McGee's plan to take down Napolitano from the inside out was working," he said. "A month ago, Jimmy asked Tim to consolidate his assets and there weren't any signs that Tim had been made. With each raid, Napolitano trusted Tim even more."

"Was it an internal coup?" Leon asked. "Someone take out Napolitano and McGee to take over the business?"

"It's as good a theory as any I've got," he replied. "There were grumblings that Little Ricky didn't like how much his father liked, trusted and relied on Tim. And with things as they were, some of Jimmy's lieutenants were grumbling that they could do better."

"Did they blame McGee?" Leon asked.

"As far as I know, no," he said with a sigh. "Most people thought someone in Bureau had it in for Jimmy. Not out of the question though."

"You going to look into them?" Leon asked as he poured him another cup of coffee before he stood and collected two plates.

"Kinda hard to look at everything with just the two of us. We're a man down," he replied. Leon cocked an eyebrow at him. Even with Tim, there was no way they could look into every angle. "I've got DiNozzo looking into Ziva David," he said. Leon snorted. "You heard the rumors, Leon."

"Don't tell me you believe she killed all those men," Leon said as he sliced some bread and put it into a toaster.

"I don't know," he replied. "But she told DiNozzo last night that she knew we had been overseas for ONI. Not including my team, I can count on one hand the number of people that knew what we were doing in Europe. And if she knew…"

Leon looked grim as he pulled out the toast before putting in two more slices of bread.

"And you? What are you going to do?" Leon asked. His expression darkened. "No. I know that look. Don't do it Gibbs."

"What?" Jackie asked.

"He's going after Boone, Napolitano's hatchet man," Leon explained.

"I don't know who or what that is, but it doesn't sound good," Jackie said. "Leon, the toast," Jackie said. Jolting, Leon pulled out two pieces of toast that were slightly darker than they should have been. Jacking looked at her husband who shrugged. "Sit down. How do you like your eggs, Jethro?"

"Whatever is easiest for you," he replied. To be honest, he didn't feel like eating.

"Do you have any proof that he's involved?" Leon asked as he brought the toast to the table. "Don't get me wrong, he deserves to be put in a pine box but if there's still a chance that one of those bodies wasn't McGee…"

He set his cup down and sighed.

"You don't think that you're going to find him alive," Leon inferred.

"We found his weapon by one of the bodies and his knife was in the chest of another," he replied. "Hard to explain both of those items being in the room especially if Tim hasn't turned up anywhere."

"And you think taking out Boone while you're still undercover is going to make up for losing one of your team?" Leon asked pointedly. He winced. "I'm sorry Gibbs, but someone needed to say it."

"Yeah," he replied.

"Gunshots and a fire aren't Boone's style," Leon said as Jackie brought over a pan and scooped out some scrambled eggs and bacon for each of them. "Thanks Jackie."

"Do the dishes before you go to bed," she said as she left. Leon nodded.

"You're thinking that killing Boone will help you vent the anger you're feeling," Leon said. "And if he happens to be responsible for McGee's death, it would be a bonus." He sighed. "You're so angry right now but it's with yourself." He slumped. "If Boone had killed those three men, he would have made sure that everyone knew it and he wouldn't have covered it up with a fire."

"Yeah," he agreed as he began to eat.

Suddenly he realized how famished he was. He focused on eating and when Leon realized he wasn't going to say anything more, Leon did the same. Thankfully Jackie had been generous with the portions.

After two more cups of coffee, he leaned back and sighed.

"I know how much you care for your team Gibbs," Leon said. "I'm sorry to hear about McGee. He was a good man."

"This is going to eat up DiNozzo," he said. "He feels guilty cause he wasn't with McGee."

"If he was with McGee, he would be dead too," Leon countered. He looked at Leon incredulously. DiNozzo would have rather died with his partner than live with wondering if he could have done something to save Tim. "Yeah, the survivor's guilt is worse."

"Yeah," he replied. He knew because he felt it too. He was out on a date with Holly when he should have had his ear to the ground, listening for anything that would have told him Tim was at risk.

"It isn't your fault either Gibbs," Leon said.

"Doesn't feel that way," he retorted. "Tim was under my command. It was my duty to protect him."

"I understand how you feel," Leon said. "But if all commanding officers could protect their men, no one would die in battle."

He frowned. He couldn't argue with Leon.

"Look, I'll check in with my contacts at the docks," Leon said. "See if anyone heard anything about a coup. If someone was responsible for Napolitano's death, it won't take long to get around. You should check into Little Ricky and leave Boone alone until you find evidence he's involved."

"You're right," he said.

"I know I'm right," Leon said.

He smiled wryly at Leon. "Anyone ever tell you that you would make a good director of operations?" Leon snorted. "I should get going," he said as he stood. "Tell Jackie thanks for breakfast."

"I will," Leon said. "You'll let me know if you hear anything?" He nodded and pulled on his hat. He turned to leave but Leon stopped him. "Try not to feel guilty for things that are out of your control Gibbs." He snorted. "Yeah, I know. Easier said than done."

Nodding, he left and hurried into his truck. He left and drove back into town, taking back roads to avoid the morning traffic as people began to head to work. When he reached a small, seedy-looking, boarding house, he pulled off to the side and looked up at it. _The Alexander Hotel._

For ten in the morning, there wasn't much activity. Then again, most of the activity in his hotel happened at night.

But as he watched, a man in a fine suit stepped outside, smoothed his jacket and hurried on down the street.

Apparently not everything.

Getting out of his truck, he grabbed his toolbox and made his way into the hotel. A woman at the desk looked at him, seemingly sizing him up. She was reading a letter and he just caught the name on the envelope. Katherine Atwood.

"Hey, honey," she said as she dropped some fish food into a bowl with a pair of gold fish. "What can we do for you this morning? Need a room?"

"No," he replied. "I was told there was a problem with one of the bathrooms."

"You a handyman?" she asked skeptically.

"I don't carry the toolbox around for fun," he replied. "Ricky called it in. I work for Mr. Napolitano."

The woman jolted. "Oh," she said. "Sure thing. You're early, sugar. Ricky doesn't get up before the crack of noon."

"I was told to be here first thing or it'd be my head," he said, glad that this woman confirmed that Ricky was on premises. "And since I'm attached to it…"

"Right," the woman said. "Well if you wake him, you might lose your head anyways." She pushed a button and opened the door next to the office. "Third floor. Three A."

"Thanks," he said as he hurried up the stairs.

He had just gotten to the third floor when he heard someone coming up the stairs behind him. And unlike himself, he wasn't trying to move quietly.

He looked around and saw a small broom closet. He eased inside but left the door cracked so he could see.

The man reached the third floor and began to pound on one of the doors. He wasn't a large man but he was armed. As he pounded on the door, his coat lifted up and Gibbs could see a pistol.

"Ricky, get up!" he shouted as he pounded. A woman opened the next door down and looked out into hall to see what the ruckus was about. "Go! Get! Mind your own beeswax!" The woman yelped and hastily shut her door. The man pounded on the door again. "Ricky!"

"What?" Ricky asked irritably as he opened the door. He was only dressed in a pair of slacks and from this angle, Gibbs could see a woman in a bed behind him. "Mario? What the hell is wrong with you? I was sleeping."

"You also don't answer your phone," Mario retorted.

"It's off the hook," Ricky said as he leaned on the doorframe. "Tiffany was apologizing last night and we didn't want to be interrupted. What do you want, Vincetti?"

"It's your pops," Mario said. "I just came from his place. There are cops all over the place."

"Cops?" Ricky asked, standing upright. "He was arrested?"

"No," Mario said. "Dead. Something happened last night. The doorman, Finn, he said there was some kind of big shootout in your pop's apartment followed by a fire that burned half the building. The coroner was there this morning and he took three bodies out of the building, one of which was your father."

Ricky stared at Mario before he wailed in grief. Ricky's expression grew grim and he looked at Mario so intensely that the smaller man withered under Ricky's gaze.

"Who were the other two bodies?" Ricky demanded.

"Dunno," Mario said. "But Gemcity's bodyguard, DiNozzo, was pacing out front for half the night. One of them must have been Gemcity."

Ricky slammed his hand against the door.

"I knew it!" Ricky shouted. "That Gemcity must have made a play for control. He's been cozying up to my father for months. Was the other body Sal? Sal is always with my father."

"No," Mario replied. "Sal showed up this morning. He said your father sent him away before supper yesterday. Said he needed Sal to book a plane just in case."

"In case of what?" Ricky demanded.

Mario shook his head. "Sal didn't know. He just knew he was supposed to have a plane ready and that he should wait at the airport. Sounds like your pops was looking to skip town."

"That don't make no sense," Ricky said. "He didn't say nothing about skipping town. And why wouldn't he take me with him?" Ricky looked around the hall. "I mean the heat has been on lately…"

"What if," Mario said tentatively. "He was planning to skip town _with_ Gemcity and he was going to leave you to the cops?"

Ricky's expression darkened. "If that's true and Gemcity isn't dead, I'll kill him myself!" Ricky turned around. "You! Get out!"

Gibbs watched as a woman, wrapped in a sheet, hastily ran out of Ricky's room.

"What are you going to do Ricky?" Mario asked.

"I'm going to make sure that I have control over the business," Ricky retorted. "I want you to get our people out there. Make sure everyone's loyalties still lie with me. And if they don't, shoot 'em."

"What about DiNozzo?" Mario asked.

"Forget him for now," Ricky said. "We can deal with him later."

"And the business ledgers?" Mario asked again.

"They're safe where they are," Ricky said but he faltered. "And I can't get to 'em. They're hidden in a safe behind a bookcase in Gemcity's office, but the only ones who had the combination are my father and Gemcity. We'll need a safecracker to get to 'em."

"I'll find one right away," Mario said but Ricky stopped him.

"The cops are going to be all over those offices," Ricky said. "Find a guy but don't do nothing yet. We need to make sure that we're not going to do their dirty work by finding those ledgers."

"Good thinking," Mario said.

"Yeah, well I ain't as dumb as my father thinks I am. It's easier to avoid trouble if nobody thinks you're smarter than they are," Ricky said. He blinked as he realized that Ricky had fooled everyone, including his own father. "Now get going. We got work to do."

Mario nodded. "Ricky," he said stopping him before he could close the door. "I'm sorry about your pops."

"Yeah," Ricky replied. "Me too."

As soon as the coast was clear, he left the building and got back into his truck. He glanced up at Ricky's window and saw the younger man pacing.

Ricky hadn't made a power play while his father was alive, but now that his father was out of the picture, he had a feeling that Ricky was going to take over. And he wasn't going to be afraid to use force on anyone that got in his way. That included DiNozzo.

He needed to talk to Tony but he had no idea where the younger man was right now.

Without much recourse, he started his truck and drove to Tim and Tony's apartment. He could wait for Tony there.

He parked several blocks away and once again grabbed his toolbox since it made for a convenient cover.

When he reached the door, he saw doorman with a name plate that read 'Wilson.'

"Can I help you?" the doorman asked.

"Yeah, I work for Mr. Napolitano," he said. The doorman stood up straighter, confirming that Wilson worked for the mobster. "I got a call that one of his apartments needed some work?"

"Four oh three," Wilson said helpfully. "Although I don't think the tenants have left for the day. I haven't seen Mr. McGee but Mr. DiNozzo just returned with Ms. Sciuto."

"I'll just head on up and see if they want me to do the work now or come back later," he said. Wilson nodded and opened the door.

He hurried to the elevator and the reedy bellman named Pringle took him up to the fourth floor. When he reached Tony's apartment, he knocked. There was a moment's hesitation before the door opened.

"Gibbs," Tony said. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

He stepped into the apartment and saw Abby sitting on one of the sofas. She was dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a white button-down shirt. She had tear tracks down her cheeks.

"Needed to talk," he replied as Tony shut and locked the door.

"Gibbs," Abby said as she stood up.

He set his toolbox down and opened his arms. Abby crossed the room and he pulled her into a hug as she sniffed in his ear.

"It's true, isn't it?" Abby asked.

"Until we're sure it isn't him," he said but he couldn't finish the sentence. Abby pulled back and looked at him and he could sense DiNozzo's eyes on him. He met the younger man's eye. Tony's grim expression told him that DiNozzo didn't think Tim was alive either.

"You think he's dead," Abby said as she looked at him.

"My gut says no," he replied as he drew her back to the sofa. "But it's hard to ignore the evidence in front of us."

"I'd trust your gut over my eyes any day, Gibbs," Tony said. "If McGee's alive, where is he?"

He shook his head. "I don't know but we need to keep our eyes open. McGee will contact us when he can."

"We should check the safe houses," Tony replied. "The Navy Yard. Vance's place…"

"I've been to see Vance," he replied cutting Tony off. "Tim didn't go there."

"I checked your place on my way back from seeing Ziva," Tony said. "She was shocked to hear that Tim was…" Tony cut himself off before he could say it. "I believe her boss. She might know our secret but she didn't rat us out."

He nodded and stood up. He walked over to the phone and picked it up.

"Washington Navy Yard switchboard," he said when the operator asked to direct his call. The switchboard connected him to Tom Morrow when asked. "Tom," he said.

"Gibbs," Tom said. "Tell me it isn't true."

"You heard," he said as he glanced at Tony.

"How couldn't I?" Tom asked. "James Napolitano's death is all over town. I heard it through official and unofficial channels. What about McGee?" He sighed. "Damn," Tom replied. "I was hoping that part wasn't true. I was hoping he was with you."

"That's what I was hoping," he replied. "We were hoping he went to the Navy Yard and that we misidentified the body."

"I was under the impression the coroner hadn't identified the two other bodies with Napolitano," Tom replied. "Although my unofficial sources tell me it was a bodyguard and Napolitano's moneyman, Gemcity. Was the other body, DiNozzo?"

"No. Tony wasn't with him last night," he said. Tony frowned and looked away. "But your sources are probably right. It was McGee and a bodyguard. But that's only based on McGee's weapons being found at the scene."

"But they were unique to him," Morrow said. "I know because we discussed how he would protect himself on the steamship home." Morrow sighed. "I'm not looking forward to that conversation with his father."

He looked at Tony. "I'll do that Tom. Tim was under my command. It's my responsibility to notify his family."

"I don't envy you," Morrow replied. "Admiral McGee is a formidable man. And he's going to get a hell of a shock when he learns his son wasn't a criminal."

"Yeah," he replied.

Since Tim went undercover, he constantly spoke about making amends with his father. And as they grew closer to the end of their mission, he could see that Tim was anxious to tell his family the truth.

"Do you need anything from me?" Morrow asked.

"Rule twenty-eight," Gibbs replied.

"You'll have to forgive me Gibbs," Morrow said. "I don't remember all your rules anymore."

"We need help, Tom. We need ears to the ground," he said. "Little Ricky is making a play for control and he isn't going to deal with disloyalty any different than his father."

"I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise," Tom said. "Napolitano's death opens the door for his son and his lieutenants to fight for control. I'm surprised that Little Ricky is making a play though. He didn't seem the type."

"I think Little Ricky has been playing a fool to stay out of the crosshairs," he said. "He thinks that McGee tried to make a move on his father's business and that McGee killed his pops. DiNozzo could be at risk too."

Tony looked back at him at the mention of the name.

"If DiNozzo is at risk," Morrow said. "So are you. Keep your head down, Gibbs. I'll get my people on the streets and see what we can find."

"If we're not at McGee and DiNozzo's apartment, we'll be at _Quicksilver,_ " he said as he looked at Abby. "If this turns into the wild west, _Quicksilver_ will be safer. It has more security."

"Understood," Morrow said. "And Gibbs," Tom said stopping him from hanging up. "I'm sorry about McGee."

"Yeah," he replied as he hung up.

"What's this about Ricky making a play for control?" Tony asked. "Boone told you about that?"

He shook his head. "I didn't go after Boone. A fire and gunshots aren't his style," he replied. "I went to see Little Ricky and overheard him talking to one of his flunkies, Mario Vincetti."

"You don't think that Ricky tried to usurp his father, do you?" Abby asked.

He shook his head. "No," he replied as he sat down on the sofa opposite of Abby. He pulled off his overcoat and threw his hat onto the table. "Ricky was shocked by his father's death. And he was pissed too." He shook his head. "He didn't have a hand in it."

"Maybe not," Tony said as he sat down with Abby. "But it sounds like he's been playing dumb all this time."

"You have to admit," Abby said. "Everyone bought it. He was taking in everything and everyone thought he was harmless."

"I think they're about to find out that isn't true," Tony said. "So, what do we do, Boss?"

"We lie low," he replied. "Not much else we can do, DiNozzo."

"And if Tim is really dead?" Tony demanded. "We just pack it in? Two years of work, down the drain?"

"What do you want me to say, DiNozzo?" he asked tiredly. "Napolitano is dead. He was our target."

"Yeah and McGee is dead too," Tony retorted as he stood up. "Sorry Tim, all your hard work and sacrifices over these last two years, including giving your life, didn't mean a damn thing?"

"We can still take down Napolitano's network," he countered. "We have the duplicate ledgers."

"We do," Abby said. "I know where Tim keeps them."

"When we leave here, we'll take them with us," he said. Abby nodded. "It'll only be a matter of time before Napolitano's offices are raided for the real ones. Ricky said they were hidden behind a bookcase in McGee's office." Tony frowned. "Tim's hard work was and will pay off Tony."

"Fat lot of good it did him," Tony retorted. "Besides, you and I both know that it was going to be his testimony that would have been the most damning. If Little Ricky is smarter than we gave him credit for, then he'll find a way to wiggle out of paying for his crimes."

He stood up. "We won't let him, DiNozzo," he said forcefully. "We'll honor Tim by completing his mission. And for now, that means keeping our heads down. McGee wouldn't want us to do something stupid and get ourselves killed to avenge him."

"Is that why you didn't go after Boone?" Tony asked.

He jolted but then nodded. "That wasn't Boone's work," he replied. "Boone is a bastard and he'll get what's coming to him. But taking him out won't avenge Tim's death."

"Wouldn't hurt," Tony muttered causing him to smile slightly. "I'm going to talk to Dwayne make sure he keeps an eye out for suspicious characters. It may not be the best idea to stay here too long Gibbs. If Ricky is going to come after me, there are too many civilians that could be in the line of fire."

He nodded as Tony left the apartment.

Abby looked at him as he sat down on the sofa again. The drive that kept him moving had evaporated and now he felt exhausted. It had been over a day since he had last slept.

"You know that it might not be safe to stay here," Abby said. "You know it would be safer to go to _Quicksilver._ So, why are you staying here Gibbs?" He didn't answer. "You're still hoping Tim shows up." He shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure if that's optimism or denial."

"At little of both," he replied. He looked at the door to Tim's room. "My gut is still churning," he said finally. "Too many unanswered questions. Why was Naps looking to book a plane out of town? Why wasn't Sal Balducci with him last night? The man is like Napolitano's own shadow. Naps wasn't looking to skip town before yesterday, so why the sudden change?"

"Something made him think he was at risk," Abby said.

"Exactly," he said as he got up. He called the Navy Yard again. "Tom," he said as the man picked up the phone. "Have you heard anything about an arrest warrant for Napolitano?"

"Yeah," Tom said. "I just heard about it a few moments ago. It was signed yesterday afternoon. The Bureau was going to arrest Napolitano this morning but the agent who picked up the warrant disappeared. He was last seen getting into a cab near the courthouse. The Bureau has all hands on deck looking for him."

"Who knew about this warrant?" he asked as Tony returned.

"Within the Bureau?" Tom asked. "A lot of people. I know what you're thinking. Napolitano's mole probably tipped Naps off and he grabbed the agent with the warrant."

"Ya think?" he asked incredulously.

"Too many people knew about the warrant to narrow it down," Tom replied.

"Who was the agent?" he asked.

"John Charles," Tom replied. "He's been running the Napolitano investigation for the last few years. If Napolitano wasn't dead, he'd be the prime suspect for his disappearance. Naps has taken a few shots at Agent Charles over the years although nothing was ever connected back to Napolitano."

"Seems like Napolitano didn't miss this time," he said. Tom muttered in agreement. "Thanks Tom," Gibbs replied as he hung up the phone. "The doorman have anything to say?"

"Yeah," Tony replied. "He's seen the same car drive by a few times. I didn't tell him about Tim or Napolitano but I warned him that there's been some trouble."

Nodding, he said, "We'll lie low until night and then we'll move to _Quicksilver._ We'll figure out our next step from there. You should get some sleep, DiNozzo. You look like hell."

"You're a peach too, you know, Gibbs," Tony said. "Wake me in a few hours and you can catch some rack time."

The day passed in a blur. After Tony slept for a few hours, he curled up on the couch but his sleep was troubled. Too many questions were rattling around in his brain to get deep, restful sleep. He woke when the sounds of police sirens drew near.

Getting up, he joined Tony at the window.

"Just passing by," Tony said. He nodded. "Vance called while you were sleeping. Between Napolitano's lieutenants, Little Ricky and Grenouille, it's a war zone out there. Abby checked in with Blue and he said they've seen some men lurking around outside of _Quicksilver._ He's called in some extra help to keep the wolves at bay. It might make it difficult for us to get inside tonight."

"Difficult," he said. "Doesn't mean impossible."

Tony smiled grimly.

They left when it grew dark and instead of taking DiNozzo's car, they took his truck towards _Quicksilver._ But as they arrived, they found a heavy police presence around the club. Abby thought that the Bureau was raiding her place but after calling Blue, they found out that Grenouille's boys had tried to make a move on the club. Two of their boys had been killed in the shootout along with two of Grenouille's. But the club was safe, secure and still secret from the police.

But it meant that they wouldn't be able to enter _Quicksilver_ tonight.

The cops remained on the scene throughout the night and long into the morning. They stayed nearby but never found an opportunity to slip inside. He considered entering the factory with the factory workers but when he saw their uniforms and that the cops were questioning workers as they entered, that dashed that idea.

At one point, they left and went to a nearby diner for a meal. He considered taking them to a flophouse to get some rest since they hadn't really gotten much sleep in the last two days. But when he brought it up, both Abby and Tony insisted that they were fine and they could sleep once they were inside _Quicksilver._

When night fell once more, they returned to _Quicksilver_ and this time they were able to reach the club.

Tony knocked and as soon as Simon saw them, he opened the door.

"Miss Abby, Tony, Gibbs," Simon said greeting them. "I'm glad to see you."

"Same here Simon," Abby said as she hugged the big man.

"What's going on?" Simon asked.

"You didn't hear about Napolitano?" Tony asked.

"I heard that he's dead," Simon said. "Is that why La Grenouille tried for the club yesterday?" They nodded. "You two look like hell," Simon said drawing their attention. "And where's Tim?"

Tony sighed heavily. "Tim is dead, Simon," Tony said. "He was killed last night with Napolitano."

Simon's face fell. "I'm sorry to hear that Tony. I really liked him."

"I know," Tony said heavily. "Me too." Simon opened the door and allowed them to enter the club.

They made their way down into the club but he could feel that something was off. The band was playing, people were dancing and having a good time. But the atmosphere felt more like a wake than a party.

As they made their way back stage, Blue met them. He looked at them sympathetically.

"I'm sorry about Tim," Blue said. They nodded. " _Quicksilver_ is secure and we've got our eyes open in case Grenouille tries again."

"Has Little Ricky come around?" he asked.

"Not personally," Blue replied. "Mario Vincetti turned up yesterday looking for Abby. I told him she wasn't here. He wanted to me to make sure you knew the price of disloyalty to the Napolitano family."

"What did you tell him?" Tony asked.

"I told him my loyalties lie where they always had," Blue said with a smile.

"Thanks, Blue," Abby replied. "It's been a rough few days. We're going to head up to my place. You need us, you can find us upstairs."

Blue nodded.

They made their way backstage and Tony led the way up the stairs. He opened the door to Abby's apartment and flicked on the light. Suddenly Tony stopped.

"What is it?" he asked as Tony drew his weapon.

"Someone is here," Tony said softly. "The linen closet is open and there are towels trailed across the floor. Someone was looking for something."

He edged around Abby and with a look, he told her to stay put. He drew his weapon and slipped into her apartment. Tony followed as they cautiously searched the living and kitchen area. Tony quickly checked the bathroom before he met him at the bedroom door.

He nodded, signaling for Tony to open the door. After he did, he entered the room and flipped on the light. The sight in front of him was startling.

"McGee!" he said.

"McGee?" Tony asked as he entered the room.

He holstered his weapon down and hurried over to his young agent, who was lying on Abby's bed amidst the rumpled covers.

He started to examine the young man for injuries, wrinkling his nose as he did. Tim smelled heavily of smoke but he didn't see any burns. He did, however, find plenty of blood on his side and on his leg. Tim had several towels pressed against his side with a bloody hand. After making it to Abby's apartment, he had tried to do some rudimentary first-aid.

"Is he…?" Tony asked trailing off.

He held his hand over Tim's mouth. There was just the faintest trace of breath on his hand. "He's breathing," he said. He dug his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Tony. "Get Ducky."

"On it," Tony said as he hastily left.

He carefully pulled up the towels to examine the wound. It was red and inflamed but it wasn't bleeding. When he was done, he carefully lifted Tim up and saw the exit wound. "Through and through," he muttered to himself. Then he looked at the wound on Tim's thigh. He pulled his knife and quickly cut open Tim's pants so he could get a better look at the injury. It didn't take long for him to determine that the bullet was still in Tim's leg.

"McGee!" Abby said as she ran into the room. She hurried to the other side of the bed and grabbed his hand. Tim didn't move. "He's freezing Gibbs."

"He's lost a lot of blood," he said as he hurried to check for other injuries. In the process, he found a weapon in Tim's holster. It was a right-handed weapon, which meant that he had lost his and had taken the weapon from one of their bodies.

"How'd he get in here?" Abby asked. "How long has he been here?" He didn't answer. He didn't know either. "Is he going to be ok?"

"I don't know, Abs," he said.

Suddenly Tim began to murmur and toss his head. He took Tim's face in his hand and the younger man calmed. Tim's hands might be like ice, but he could feel the start of a fever at Tim's forehead. Two days without treatment for his injuries put him at risk for infection. Tim was in for the fight of his life.

"Stay with us, Tim. You do not have my permission to die," he said sternly.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Now for a little good news/ bad news. There's only one chapter left. But it won't get posted until next week. I was hoping to get through things before I went out of town for the weekend but a head cold and hectic work schedule has made that impossible.

So, Tim is in a bad state but medical care as we know it wasn't a thing yet. He lost a lot of blood and his wounds weren't treated right away so Tim is in for a rough time.

As for a little bit of history, blood transfusions weren't really common even though they were possible. (I briefly mentioned it when Jimmy was shot.) It had only been discovered in 1901 that there were three distinct types of human blood (A, B and O) and most transfusions were done directly from person to person because clotting issues. The first US blood bank wasn't set up until 1937. Transfusions didn't become common until the 40s.

Also, penicillin and other synthetic antibiotics didn't come into their own until the 40s. (It's amazing what a world war will do for medical advances.) It was discovered in 1928 but didn't gain much traction until the late 30s. There were issues with mass production so supplies were very limited until the process of deep tank fermentation was developed by chemical engineer Margaret Hutchinson Rousseu.

I apologize for leaving you hanging but it can't be helped! I'll post as soon as I can, early next week!


	28. Chapter 27 - Answers

**Chapter 27 – Answers**

 _Timothy McGee_

* * *

Tim opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. Not that opening his eyes helped. He couldn't see a thing through the thick fog.

He shivered slightly in the damp air. It was the kind of fog that clung to everything and made you feel like something terrible was about to happen. He wanted to get away but he couldn't see more than a few feet. And without being able to see anything, he was afraid to move. He didn't want to step off a ledge or into traffic or into the water…

Water?

Now that he thought about it, he could hear the gentle sound of water lapping against some hard surface. And he could smell the fishy and slightly salty tang of brackish water. Then he heard a bell attached to a buoy as it gently rocked in the currents.

So, he was near the water.

As he continued to look around, it grew lighter and the fog began to lift. After a few minutes, he could see the wooden dock beneath his feet.

"Tim," a voice called.

Looking down the dock, he saw a hulking ship appear out of the fog. He could just see the name 'Utah' on the bow. As the fog continued to lift, he saw a man in an officer's uniform. A captain to be specific.

"Tim," the officer called.

Walking towards the man, he realized that the Captain was his father. He unconsciously stood up straighter and looked down at his suit to make sure he was presentable.

"What are you doing here Tim?" his father asked.

"I came to see you," he said without thinking. "You're deploying."

"You should be studying," his father reproachfully. "You have your exams. You need to do well if you want to be accepted at that college you've been talking about."

"This is more important," he insisted. "You're being deployed and it's going to be dangerous."

His father laughed, brushing off his concerns. "I'll be fine. This little skirmish is nothing."

"I just heard more merchant ships have been sunk by German U-boats," he said skeptically. "Aren't you being deployed to protect merchant ships?"

"And that's why things will work out," his father insisted. "You're looking at one of the Navy's finest ships." He nodded. The _USS Utah_ was a dreadnaught battleship and it was an impressive ship. "And when you've finished your schooling, you'll be old enough to join the navy and see for yourself."

He frowned.

"We've been over this before, Dad," he said.

"And you're making a mistake Tim," his father countered before he could finish. "The navy makes a fine career."

"I know," he replied hastily. "But I don't think it's for me. There's a lot of new technology that I want to learn. I've been reading up on electrical engineering and how it can be used in communications. There's been some really interesting things on circuits…"

"Research," his father scoffed. "You should do something practical with your life. Not spend your life with your nose in a book." He bit back a retort. They were standing by a modern warship that was the product of people who spent their lives with their noses in books. "The navy provides for a good life that has meaning. It did me and your grandfather well."

"You just want me to be like you," he replied before he could stop himself.

"You could only hope to do so well," his father retorted. "Your grandfather was an Admiral and I've just been informed that I'm up for promotion as well."

"Congratulations," he said half-heartedly.

"You shouldn't sound so ungrateful, boy," his father said sternly. "This navy put a roof over your head and three squares on the table."

He shivered in the cold. The fog was returning along with the damp air.

"At what cost?" he asked. "You've been gone so much."

"It's an honor to serve our country," his father countered.

"I didn't say it wasn't," he said hastily as he wrapped his arms around his waist. "Aren't you cold?"

"What? Can't take a little cool weather, boy?" his father asked.

"Not without a coat," he muttered.

"Hot soup!" a voice called from the fog. "Get your hot soup here!"

"Soup," he said to himself as he looked off into the fog. He wondered where the soup seller was. "That sounds good." He turned and started to walk down the dock.

"Don't you walk away," his father said sternly. He turned back to his father. "I'm not finished talking with you yet."

"What do you want from me, dad?" he asked. "I've already told you. I don't want to join the navy."

"What are you going to do then? Be some professor in an ivy tower?" his father demanded. "Or maybe a common criminal." He winced. "Work for a bootlegger who flaunts the law."

"Don't tell me you haven't had a drop to drink since the amendment passed," he said reproachfully. "I've seen the bottles you've brought back with you from the Caribbean."

His father's expression grew hard but he didn't respond. He knew his father couldn't deny it. His father didn't over-indulge by any means but he did find it hypocritical that his father criticized bootleggers when he was technically bootlegging liquor back into the country after their training cruises to the Caribbean.

"Hot soup! Get your hot soup here!" the voice called enticingly.

"Look dad, you're going to have to understand," he said. "I need to make my own way in the world. The navy has been good to our family. But it isn't for me. I don't know where that will take me but I know I want to do something that will help people." His father frowned. "And I'm going to get some soup. Would you like to join me?"

"You walk away, you don't come back," his father warned.

He looked at his old man and made up his mind. Steeling himself, he walked away into the fog. He reached the man selling soup at a cart but strangely he couldn't see his face. It was hidden by a flat cap pulled low.

"Why don't you eat a little of this?" the man asked. "You need to keep your strength up."

"Sure," he said as he accepted the cup. He took a sip but almost immediately spit most of it out. "It's too hot," he said as soup dribbled down his chin.

"What was that, Tim?" the man asked. He blinked. He still couldn't see the man's face but his voice sounded familiar. "I didn't hear that. Say again."

"Too hot," Tim murmured.

Suddenly the dock and soup man were gone. He was lying on a bed and he ached all over. He wanted to open his eyes but even that tiny effort felt impossible to achieve.

"Come on, Tim," the familiar voice said. "Fight. You can do this."'

He tipped his head towards the voice but he couldn't make his eyes open.

Someone grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly but he could feel himself slipping back into the fog. The dock had already reappeared and he could see his father looking at him disapprovingly.

Suddenly he felt a light but firm tap on the back of his head.

Jolting, he took a deep breath. It hurt like hell but that further drew him into alertness.

Forcing his eyes open, he saw Gibbs staring at him intently.

"That's it, Tim," Gibbs said firmly but gently. "Wake up."

Blinking a few times, he looked around in confusion. Gibbs was sitting by his bedside and had put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly.

"Tim," Gibbs said in relief.

"Hey Gibbs," Tim said, his voice cracking. He licked his lips. He felt like he had been standing in the market in Tunis all day without a canteen. "Water?" Gibbs grabbed a glass of water and helped him to drink. "Thanks."

"You had us all worried," Gibbs said softly as he set the glass aside. "How do you feel?"

"Sore all over. Like I was hit by a car," Tim said wincing. His torso felt like it was on fire and he could barely move his leg. "Was I?" Tim asked.

Gibbs shook his head but laughed lightly. He looked at his boss in confusion. Gibbs didn't seem to want to let him in on the joke. "You were shot. Twice. Once in the side and once in the leg."

"Oh," he said. "So why can't I feel my arm?" He glanced down and saw that Abby was attached to it. "Oh." Tim smiled softly at her. She was seated on a makeshift pallet on the floor but was sleeping with her head on the bed and his arm firmly in her grasp. Apparently, she had put his arm to sleep.

Gibbs smiled which was odd. He didn't get to see his boss smile all that often.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Gibbs said.

"I was dead?" he asked as he sniffed. The smell of the broth was making him hungry.

"Very nearly," Gibbs replied as he picked up the cup of broth. He held it out and helped him to drink. At first, he thought it was weird that his boss was feeding him but once the warm, rich liquid hit his mouth, he didn't care. It might be simple chicken broth, but it tasted like a gourmet meal to him. "It's been a rough few weeks."

Jolting, he almost spat the broth out. He swallowed hard and winced in pain from his injuries.

"Weeks?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Gibbs said with a half-smile. "Two weeks to be exact." He stared at Gibbs in shock. "We didn't find you here for two days," Gibbs explained. "By then you had lost so much blood and an infection had set it." Gibbs swallowed and looked him in the eye. "Won't lie. I thought I had lost you a few times but you kept fighting." He looked at Gibbs in surprise. His boss hadn't tried to hide his affection. "Made me damn proud of you," Gibbs said. "You never gave up."

"What happened?" he asked wondering how he had ended up shot.

Gibbs looked at him. "You don't remember?"

He closed his eyes and thought back. The memory of speaking to his father on the docks was the strongest. Although, now that he thought about it, he realized that it was probably a dream and not a memory. He twitched as flashes of a horrifying scene passed before his eyes. What he thought was a dream was probably the truth. Although his memory was fragmented and he wasn't sure what order things had happened or if all of it had even happened.

"I'm not sure." Tim took a deep breath. "Feels like a dream… or a nightmare. I'm not sure what is real. Do you know what happened to me?"

"No. We know that Napolitano called you to his apartment. You called Tony but before he could arrive, the building was on fire," he said. "And Ducky pulled three bodies out the next day. One had your weapon at hand and the other had your knife in his chest."

He shuddered as he recalled using the knife. He didn't know who he had stabbed but he had stabbed someone.

"Two of which could have been you," Gibbs continued, watching him intently. "We thought you were dead until we found you here. Even then we weren't sure you'd live. We've taken turns keeping watch over you but Abby has been by your side more often than not."

Tim looked fondly at Abby. He brought his free hand up and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Abby began to stir at his touch and slowly she opened her eyes. She blinked and looked up at him. "Tim! You're awake!"

"Apparently," he said with a smile.

Tears pricked at her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Sorry," he replied contritely. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Suddenly Abby was kissing him. And even though his torso hurt with the effort, he wasn't about to break off the kiss.

After they separated, he said, "Well that's not such a bad way to wake up." He felt flushed and warm all over. Abby smacked him lightly on the arm, but she was smiling even as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Gibbs stood and walked over to the door, jerking it open. He could just see through the door that two military cots were set up in the living room. Tony was lying on one of the them but he leapt to his feet at Gibbs' appearance.

"Grab Duck," Gibbs said as he returned to the bedroom.

A moment later, Ducky entered the room, rubbing his eyes before he replaced his glasses. Tony followed him inside and grinned at the sight of him awake.

"Good morning, Timothy," Ducky said pleased. "I'm glad to see you awake."

"I guess I should be happy that I am awake," he said as Ducky started to check his vitals.

"I should say so. You lost quite a bit of blood," Ducky said as he took his pulse. "But you were lucky that the gunshot was a through and through and the other missed the arteries in your leg."

"I'm not sure I feel lucky," he said as he winced while Ducky checked the bandage on his side. The tape was pulling painfully. "Easy Ducky."

"I am sorry Timothy," Ducky said contritely. "I did not want to give you any sort of pain medication until you were awake."

"You can get him something though?" Tony asked concerned by his partner's pain.

"Yes," Ducky replied. "I have morphine but I will want to strictly control the dosage. I am concerned by its addictive properties. There are some that believe the so called 'soldier's disease' is a farce."

"But you don't," Gibbs said.

"No," Ducky replied as he finished checking his side and moved to check the bandage on his leg. "I believe that they suffer from acute Morphine addiction. And I would like to prevent Timothy from suffering from that malady."

"Yeah," he replied as he released a breath as Ducky finished. "Me too."

"You seem to be healing nicely," Ducky said with a pleased smile. "And your fever seems to have finally broken for good." He looked at Ducky questioningly. "You had a high fever for five days after we found you."

"We thought you'd wake up after that broke," Abby said.

"It was at least enough to try a transfusion," Ducky said. "To replace the blood you lost. I'm not sure if you had a bad reaction to it or if you hadn't fully recovered from the fever. Either way, a fever is one of the known side-effects of receiving a blood transfusion…"

"Where'd you get the blood?" he interrupted, the curiosity getting the best of him.

"Jimmy," Tony said. "You and the autopsy gremlin share the same blood type," Tony replied.

"Tony wanted to give you some of his blood but you're not the same type," Abby said. "None of us were. Thankfully Jimmy shares your blood type."

"Jimmy was happy to help," Ducky said. "He said it was his way of repaying you for twice saving his life."

"I'd like to thank him for that," he said.

"We'll be sure to bring him by soon," Ducky said with a nod. "He's currently at work, covering for my absence. Once I'm sure Timothy is on the upswing, I will have to join him. We have two more guests at the Mallard Inn."

"Mallard Inn?" he asked in confusion. "I didn't know you ran an inn."

Ducky smiled benevolently at him. "I mean, I have two more bodies waiting for me at the coroner's office. On top of the others and your care, it has been a busy few weeks."

"Others?" he asked.

"Napolitano's death sparked something of a civil war," Gibbs replied. "Between Little Ricky and Napolitano's lieutenants, they're fighting for control of the organization."

"And the Frog is trying to take advantage of the chaos to seize more of Napolitano's network for himself," Tony added.

Gibbs looked at him and he knew what Gibbs was going to ask even without speaking.

He closed his eyes and tried to block out the memories that were slowly coming back to him. As he recalled more, the more he wished that hadn't.

"The details are kinda fuzzy, Gibbs," Tim protested. He didn't really want to relive what had happened.

"We need to know Tim," Gibbs said firmly but gently. "Start at the beginning," Gibbs said. "Take it slow."

"All right," he said reluctantly. He took a deep breath and winced as the pain lanced through his torso. When it passed, he thought back to what had happened. "I guess I lost track of time when I was working," Tim said hesitantly. "With Napolitano gone from the office, things were quiet and I got engrossed in the paperwork. Jim Kidwell came into my office and told me that Jimmy wanted to see me and that I should bring the paperwork that I had completed to transfer his funds out of the country. Tony told me where he was going for dinner so I called the restaurant and left a message."

"I got the message," Tony said, smiling ruefully. "I left Ziva sitting at our table. Luckily she forgave me when she found out what happened."

Tim smiled crookedly. "Sorry Tony. I didn't want to ruin your date."

"Well you got the raw end of the night, McGee," Tony replied with a shrug. "Besides, things went south on their own when she told me she knew."

"Knew what?" he asked momentarily distracted.

"She _knew_ ," Tony replied meaningfully. Tim's eyes widened in surprise.

"She knows? How?" Tim asked. Tim looked from Tony to him in concern. "And what's she going to do?"

"I'm not sure how much it matters now," Tony replied and he nodded. "This thing is going to be over shortly anyway."

"Excuse me," Ducky said curtly. "I seem to be the only one who doesn't _know_ what you are talking about. Would you care to let me in on the secret?"

Tony looked at Gibbs who shrugged. They knew the doctor well enough to know that he could be trusted with their secret, which likely wasn't going to be a secret much longer. Now that Napolitano was dead, they would likely be done with their undercover operation in short order.

"Oh uh," Tony said. "We're not exactly who we say we are, Ducky." Ducky looked confused. "Well we are who we say we are. It's more of: we aren't what we say we are. We've been undercover for the last two years trying to take down Napolitano's organization."

Ducky's eyes widened in surprise. "You are with the Bureau of Prohibition?"

"No," he said wryly.

"Bureau of Investigation then," Ducky said.

Tony scowled.

"Office of Naval Intelligence," he said.

"Naval Intelligence?" Ducky asked incredulously. "Why on earth would Naval Intelligence be investigating a mobster?"

"ONI doesn't have any reason," Tony replied. "Our team specializes in infiltration and espionage."

"Spies?" Ducky asked.

Tim nodded. "We were specifically tasked with acquiring information on new foreign naval technology, deciphering it and sending plans home."

"So how did you get from acquiring foreign naval technology to infiltrating a mob?" Ducky asked.

"We're doing Hoover a favor," Tony replied. "The BOIs figured that they had a mole. Someone was slipping Napolitano information and they couldn't trust anyone within the Bureau or Prohibition Unit. Since they couldn't trust themselves they went to another organization."

"He needed a team that was unknown in Washington," Tim added. "We had been in Europe for the last five years before we started this assignment."

"Well I'd say that you succeeded. I never suspected a thing!" Ducky said. "You too Abby?"

Abby blinked in surprise and then laughed. "Uh no. I am exactly who I say I am. Speakeasy manager extraordinaire. But I have known what they were since Palmer was shot." She squeezed Tim's hand.

"Our intention was to find the mole and arrest James Napolitano but dead works too," Tony finished.

And that brought them back to topic. While he had hoped that they would move on from asking him what happened, he knew they wouldn't.

"What happened after you got to Jimmy's apartment?" Gibbs asked.

He closed his eyes and started talking. Once he began, the memories began to align and fit together and he spoke faster and faster…

The drive to Napolitano's apartment wasn't that long but his apprehensions made it feel longer. Jim didn't speak and he didn't initiate a conversation. He didn't know Jim all that well, which made him wary about small talk. He didn't want to risk saying something that might make the man suspicious.

When they had arrived, Jim took him around the back of the building and paused at a low brick wall. He watched with interest as Jim looked around before pulling a brick out of the wall. Once in hand, he could see that the brick had been hollowed out and a small key had been hidden within. After replacing the brick, he followed Jim to a rear door, which he opened with the key.

They hurried up the stairs to the top floor where the door was propped open with a wedge. He entered the hall and Jim carefully closed the door so that the wedge kept the door from locking. Considering that Jim had locked the stairwell door on the ground floor, he found this behavior strange but he didn't have time to ask. Jim was already knocking on Napolitano's door.

To his surprise, Jimmy answered the door himself.

"Timothy. Good. Come in. Come in," Jimmy said. "I sent the help home. Throw your coat there. We have a lot of work to do."

He nodded and hurried to follow Jimmy. "Mr. Kidwell. You keep watch on the door. I'm expecting someone. Let him in when he arrives."

"Yes, Mr. Napolitano," Kidwell said as he took a seat in the living area.

He followed Jimmy into his study and looked around. Papers were scattered around the room and a half empty bottle of whiskey was on the desk. The room was dimly lit by just the desk lamp and a small fire in the fireplace.

After he shut the door, he examined Jimmy closely. He was disheveled and smelled heavily of whiskey. His eyes were dilated, he was slurring and he wasn't exactly steady on his feet. In short, Jimmy was practically embalmed.

"What's going on Jimmy?"

"Too much! I've got to get out of town tonight," Jimmy said. "The Feds are coming for me."

Genuinely surprised, he asked, "The Feds are coming for you?" He hadn't heard anything about that and he had spoken with Gibbs last night. Their plan to take down Napolitano's network piece by piece was progressing but they had no plans to move on Jimmy until they learned the identity of the mole or unless Jimmy planned to skip town. "How do you know that?"

"I have a source," Jimmy said as he refilled his whiskey glass. Jimmy held up the bottle questioningly but he shook his head as he set his briefcase down. He knew that tonight of all nights was not the night to dull his senses. Jimmy took a long drink before he continued. "My source tells me that the Feds are going to arrest me. He's just about as high up in the Bureau as you can get so I know he isn't lying to me."

"Oh," he said evenly, even as his heartrate increased. He hoped a calm voice could inject a voice of reason into Jimmy. At the same time, he was going to meet Napolitano's mole. They could find out who had been protecting Jimmy after all this time.

"Can you trust this source if he's so high up in the Bureau?" he asked. "Perhaps he's the one who's been playing you all this time. Maybe he's the one that has been slipping information to the Bureau."

"I considered it, Tim. Believe me, I did," Jimmy said seriously. "Especially after all the hits we've taken these last few months," Jimmy said, slurring slightly. "That's why he's going to come here tonight to deliver the proof."

"Proof that the Bureau is going to arrest you?" he asked.

Jimmy nodded. "But before that, I want to make sure that I'm able to get away, which is why you're here," Jimmy said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Right," he replied. He picked up his briefcase and took a seat at Jimmy's desk.

"I know I can trust you, my boy," Jimmy said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've always been true to me. That means a lot." Jimmy squeezed his shoulder.

He looked up at Jimmy and not for the first time, wondered what Jimmy would think if he knew that he was a Fed trying to take him down. Although, now that he thought about it, if he met the mole tonight, Jimmy would soon learn the truth.

"And I know you've been working diligently to transfer my money to Cuba," Jimmy finished.

"Yes," he said as he pulled out the paperwork. For a moment, he wondered if what he had planned would work. He had hoped for more time to refine his plan but that wasn't going to be the case. He glanced at Jimmy. His eyes were glassy. If this was going to work, tonight would be the night.

"You said yesterday that my funds were ready to be transferred," Jimmy said.

"Yes," he replied as he shuffled the papers and put them into a better order. "There are still numerous assets that need to be liquidated," he said.

"I know, I know," Jimmy said waving him off. "We'll deal with that after I have left the country. I trust you to look after things with me out of town Tim. I've already told my trusted associates that they should take orders from you as if they were coming from me."

He nodded to gain some time. Even though he had technically been in charge over Christmas, the thought that Jimmy's lieutenants were supposed to take orders from him still made him nervous. If Jimmy fled the country, he seriously doubted that they would be too inclined to obey him. He'd bet that they would be more likely to try to bump him off to take control for themselves.

"Very well. But I'll need some time to coordinate that effort. Do you know when you'll be leaving?" he asked.

Jimmy shook his head. "No idea. Could be immediately if my source isn't pulling my leg. Or if he's full of baloney, then it'll be a while yet. Either way, I'd like to be prepared just in case." He nodded in concession. "What do I gotta do to make sure my money makes it to Cuba?"

"It's very simple. I just need your signature on these documents and once I deliver them to the bank, they'll send a wire to the Bank of Nova Scotia to complete the transfer of your money. It might even get to Cuba faster than you," he said as he stood.

He offered the chair to Jimmy, who sat. He handed him a pen and pointed to the locations where Jimmy needed to sign. Whether he was too soused to think about it or too trusting, Jimmy never paused to read what he was signing. When they were through with the stack, he said, "Of course, there will be more paperwork for you to sign to transfer the remainder of your assets."

"Of course," Jimmy said as he swallowed the remainder of his drink. "But that can be done when I'm in Cuba, right?"

"I'll have to deliver the paperwork for your signature, but yes," he replied.

Jimmy chuckled. "A good excuse for a tropical vacation, huh?"

"That part doesn't hurt," he conceded.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. They looked up and saw Jim Kidwell.

"Your guest is here, Mr. Napolitano," Kidwell said.

"Show him in," Jimmy said as he stood.

He looked up as a man dressed in a long brown overcoat entered the office. He was surprised to see who it was.

"Your mole is Bureau of Investigation Agent John Charles?" he asked, looking at Jimmy incredulously. John Charles was the agent in charge of the Napolitano investigation. For the last three years he had been trying to arrest Napolitano. And now he knew why Agent Charles had failed. "When you said he was high up, I didn't think he'd be that high up, Jimmy."

"John," Napolitano said ignoring him. "You brought it?"

"Of course, I did," Agent Charles said as he looked at him cautiously. "Who is this?"

"I forgot that you've never met each other," Jimmy said. "This is Mr. Gemcity, my accountant. Thom, you know Agent John Charles."

He carefully kept his expression neutral. Thankfully, even in his embalmed state, Jimmy had the sense to use his cover name. Chances were that Charles wouldn't be able connect him, Timothy McGee, a relatively low ranked ONI agent, to the investigation into Napolitano's network. But it was better if that wasn't even an option.

That was assuming that Charles knew about the investigation. As far as he knew, only the Secretary of the Navy, Tom Morrow and Hoover knew about their mission. He didn't even think that the current head of ONI, Captain Hayne Ellis, knew about their mission, which had been arranged by the Secretary of the Navy. Tom Morrow had only been involved so as to suggest their team and act as a liaison between them and Hoover.

"Yes, Mr. Napolitano, I know Agent John Charles. He's running the Bureau's investigation into your operation. We've cursed his name often enough after a raid," he said. "And toasted his failures when he didn't find anything incriminating against you. Knowing that he's your source certainly explains how you've avoided trouble for so long."

"It helps doesn't it," Jimmy said clearly pleased with himself.

"Although not as much recently," he said suspiciously.

They hadn't worked with anyone directly at the Bureau because they didn't know who the mole was. Instead they had worked with Tom Morrow. They had allowed Morrow to slip the information to the Bureau or Prohibition Unit in any way he saw fit. It should have insulated them from anyone in either agency but he still knew it was best to be cautious.

Charles frowned. "Someone has been interfering with my investigation, Jimmy," Charles said. "I told you that. Tips have been coming into the Bureau as a whole. If I ignored them, I'd have been canned and you'd been in worse shape."

"I'm not sure of that," he muttered. Charles wasn't wrong but it didn't hurt to plant a seed of doubt in Jimmy's mind.

Charles examined him thoroughly as if sizing him up. "Do you trust Mr. Gemcity, Jimmy?"

"Of course I do. If I didn't, he wouldn't be here," Jimmy said sharply. "Thom has put together all the paperwork I need to get out of the country. Once I see your proof, then I'll pay you your final installment and you can be off."

Charles pulled off his coat and draped it over the nearest sofa. Then he reached into his suit pocket. "This is the warrant for your arrest, Jimmy," he said.

Jimmy stood up took the paper and hurried over to the fireplace so he could read the paper by the flickering light. "When was this signed?" Jimmy demanded.

"Just this afternoon," Charles replied. He watched Charles cautiously. As corrupt as Charles was for working with Napolitano all this time, he wasn't about to trust Charles as far as he could throw him. "Some of my colleagues saw that you were on the ropes and decided to take advantage of the situation. They thought that they had enough to take you down. I tried to convince them otherwise."

"But clearly, you were unsuccessful," Jimmy retorted. Charles nodded. "When?"

"I picked up the warrant this afternoon," Charles said. "If all goes to plan, they'll come for you in the morning and seize the records in your office."

"I'll be damned if I go with the Feds. If this is real, I'm leaving town before they can take me," Jimmy said as he held out the warrant for him to inspect it. He joined Jimmy by the fireplace and took the paper. He examined it and to his surprise he found it to be the real thing.

"It's real, Jimmy," he said causing Jimmy to frown.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Jimmy said. "This accelerates my plans to leave the country."

"And leave everything behind?" Charles asked. "The Bureau will seize your assets Jimmy. Wherever you go, you'll be a poor man."

"Of course I won't be," Napolitano retorted. "I'm taking it with me. Gemcity prepared the paperwork. I just signed it. My money will be in Havana waiting for me."

"Really? Well you better be sure that this paperwork is in order," Charles said as he rounded the desk. Agent Charles glanced at the top paper which detailed the transfer of Jimmy's bank accounts. He noticed John's eyes widen just slightly as he caught sight of the bottom line. "Does your man know what he's doing?"

"Of course I do," he said defensively.

"So, all that money is in Cuba?" he asked.

"It will be as soon as that paperwork is handed over to the banks," he said.

"That's just what I wanted to hear," Charles said as he drew a revolver.

Napolitano blinked in drunken surprise as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

But he didn't move. He mentally ran through his options. Charles probably didn't know he was armed. And there was no guarantee that this would end up with shots fired. It seemed to him that Charles intended to skip town with the paperwork. Too bad it wouldn't do him any good. He had set things up so that only he or Napolitano could access the accounts.

He started to look for an escape route just in case. He was close to the sofa, which could give him a measure of cover if he needed it although he doubted the sofa would do much to stop a bullet.

"Charles. What are you doing?" Napolitano asked.

"Taking my last payment, Naps," Charles said as he approached Jimmy menacingly. "I've risked too much for the paltry amount you've paid me over the years so I'm taking what's due to me."

He tensed and tried to subtly put his hand closer to his pistol. He was getting a bad feeling that Charles wasn't just going to take the paperwork and leave.

"You'd steal what I worked so hard for?" Napolitano asked angrily.

"Is it really stealing if I take money from a crook, Jimmy?" Charles asked.

"You're damn right it is!" Jimmy shouted.

Suddenly Jimmy lurched forward. He took the opportunity to take cover and ducked behind the sofa as the two grappled. When he heard a gunshot, he poked his head over the edge of the couch. Jimmy had forced Charles' gun upward and plaster showered down around their heads as they struggled for the gun. Jimmy had strength born of liquor but that was waning quickly.

Charles managed to throw Jimmy off, just as Jim Kidwell burst into the room. As he watched from behind the sofa, several things happened at once. Jimmy tripped and fell into the fireplace, letting out a terrible scream as his clothing caught fire. Jim Kidwell fired his weapon at Charles but perhaps because he was distracted by Napolitano, he missed. Charles was not so distracted and his shot hit Kidwell square in the chest, felling him.

He drew his pistol and took a moment to plan his strategy before he stood up from behind the sofa. He paused, realizing he still had the warrant in his hand. He quickly rolled it and stuffed it into his holster before he tried to figure out what he ought to do next.

But terrible screams forced him to break his cover. Peering over the sofa, he saw that Jimmy had managed to pull himself out of fire and now he was flailing around, trying to put out the flames. But the more he flailed, the more he fanned the flames.

He grimaced until Charles fired again, putting several slugs into Jimmy, effectively putting him out of his misery. Jimmy fell backwards onto the other sofa. Charles used a quilt to beat out the flames and then tossed it to the side.

"Come out Mr. Gemcity," Charles said. "I have no reason to hurt you."

"You're kidding, right?" he asked as he tried to gauge the other man's location. "You've just killed two men, including my employer. Why should I trust you?"

"Because I need you as much as you need me. You need me to keep your identity secret from the Bureau and I need you to find the rest of Napolitano's assets. Work with me and we'll share his riches," Charles replied.

From what he could guess, Charles was standing near the desk. He had to make a break for the door and get out of here but there was too much open space to get away cleanly.

Suddenly Charles fired several shots. Tim grunted as he felt one of the bullets strike his left side and another lodge in his thigh. He was knocked to the ground and winced as pain lanced through his body. But he knew he couldn't stay put. If he hoped to get out of this alive, he needed to go on the offensive.

Despite the pain, he stood up and fired several shots at Charles. One struck Charles in his shoulder. Charles shouted in pain and tried to fire again but he was out of bullets. Tim struggled to stay upright, pressing his free hand to his side.

He sucked in a deep breath and coughed as he gagged on the smoke-filled air. He looked around and saw to his alarm that the carpet was on fire. The quilt Charles had used to put out the flames from Jimmy's clothes had caught fire. And it was spreading quickly. The room would be engulfed soon and he knew he had to get out quickly or risk becoming trapped.

He started to limp towards the door but Charles tackled him. Taken by surprise, he grunted as he struck the ground. His gun flew from his hand and skittering off towards the door. Charles tried to smack his head off the ground but he managed to wiggle out of his grasp and kick Charles off him.

But Charles was quick to recover. Charles dived towards him and landed a blow on his injured side. He screamed as pain roared through his abdomen but years of training under Gibbs kept him from losing his head. He dislodged Charles again, sending him flying across the room.

He rolled away and managed to lurch to his feet, heavily favoring his good leg. Charles had managed to get to his feet, so he sized him up. His right arm hung limply and his face was filled with pain. Fortunately, Charles didn't seem to have a weapon. But he did and he had a good feeling that Charles didn't know about it.

"You could have just taken the paperwork, Charles," he said as he waited for Charles to inch closer. He would only have one shot at this. He couldn't afford to lose his advantage right now. "You didn't need to kill Jimmy," he said wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. The bullet was lodged in the muscle mass and burned like a hot poker. He didn't think it was a serious injury but it was hampering his mobility.

"No, but he forced me to kill him," Charles said as he inched closer to him. "And now I need to take care of you. I was hoping you'd help me but for now I'll just have to settle for the assets you've acquired. I'm sure I'll find the rest during my investigation."

He slid his left hand around his back and grasped the hilt of his knife that he kept hidden at the small of his back. He flicked it open and waited.

Suddenly, Charles lurched at him. At the same time, he lunged forward and slipped in under Charles' guard.

Charles cried out as the blade slid through his ribs just under his armpit. He staggered backwards and looked down at the knife that had pierced his lung. Charles looked up at him before he sat down heavily on the floor. He gasped for breath and looked at Tim like a landed fish.

Blinking, he coughed as the smoke grew so thick that it was becoming hard to breathe. The fire had spread to one of the sofas and the heavy curtains. He stumbled across the room and grabbed the paperwork. He hastily thrust it into his briefcase and snapped the lid shut. Then he stumbled towards the door, checking on Jim Kidwell as he reached the man. He didn't have to feel for a pulse to know that the man was dead or soon would be. The large pool of blood told him that he wouldn't survive his wounds.

Coughing again, he plucked the gun out of Jim's hands and tucked it into his holster. His weapon was lost and he didn't have time to search for it and he needed a way to protect himself. Stumbling, he hurried to the apartment door, coughing as he burst through the smoky room.

He coughed and stumbled into hallway, still clutching his side and the briefcase. He heard shouts of alarm as neighbors pounded on doors to alert each other to the fire. Without thinking, he followed a nightgown clad woman into the stairwell and prayed that he wouldn't pass out before he managed to escape the building.

"I'm not sure how I got back here though," he said as he opened his eyes. Everyone was staring at him in shock. "The last thing I remember was leaving the building."

"You're telling us that James Napolitano's mole in the Bureau was John Charles?" Tony asked when no one else could seemingly speak.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Bureau of Investigation Agent John Charles?" Ducky asked again. "I find that hard to believe! I know the man. He didn't care for the Temperance movement but he was a sworn lawman!"

"How do you know him Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"I've had the unfortunate pleasure to autopsy one of his colleagues, Victor Gera," Ducky replied. "Agent Charles came in personally to confirm the man's identity."

"Victor Gera?" Tony asked. "That name isn't familiar."

"You might know him better as Guido Valentino," Tim said.

"Valentino?" Tony asked. "Yeah, that name I know. Was this about two months ago?" Ducky nodded. "That explains a lot."

"Who was he?" Abby asked confused.

"He was in Napolitano's numbers business," Tony replied.

"That's an understatement," Gibbs said.

"What's that mean?" Abby asked.

"He was running one of Jimmy's best gambling parlors," Tim replied. "And then one day he wasn't." Abby shook her head. "He got the axe."

"Literally," Ducky said darkly. "He was killed with an axe to the back."

"Jimmy told me he was a law enforcement mole and had him taken care of," Tim replied. Abby stared at him. "He told me after Gera was killed that he was cop. When I asked how he knew, Jimmy just said that he had an ironclad source. I didn't dare push for more information at the time."

"His ironclad source was Charles," Gibbs said. Tim nodded.

"I can't believe it," Ducky said incredulously. "He's been pursuing Napolitano for as long as I can remember. He wouldn't be on Napolitano's payroll. He's a good man. And he certainly wouldn't turn one of his agents over to Napolitano for death."

"Evidently, he did," Gibbs said.

"I can assure you that it was him, Ducky," Tim said. He shifted slightly in bed and winced as he jarred his injuries. "I saw him with my own eyes. He's the one that shot me and I stabbed him in the chest."

Tony crossed his arms. "But John Charles wasn't in the books."

"Napolitano must have a private set of books," Gibbs replied.

Tim nodded. "I suspected that for a while. I just don't know where he keeps them. My guess would be somewhere in his apartment."

"Then maybe they've been cooked," Tony said with a silly grin. Gibbs frowned at the joke. "What?"

"I still have a hard time believing that John Charles was working for James Napolitano. You are sure he wasn't there to arrest Napolitano?" Ducky asked.

Tim shook his head. "He was there to tip Napolitano off and for his final payout. Jimmy had signed all the paperwork I took with me. He was ready to skip town as soon as he saw proof that the Prohibition Unit was going to arrest him. I saw the warrant. It's the real McCoy," Tim said. "Wait. You didn't find it?" He shook his head. "I rolled it up and put it into my holster."

Gibbs turned around and collected Tim's holster, which still held the unfamiliar weapon. He handed it to Tim.

"This was Kidwell's," he said as he pulled out the pistol. It was a different model than his and it had a right-handed safety. "My gun was knocked out of my hand and I didn't have time to search for it with the fire getting worse every second."

Gibbs reached into the holster and pulled out the rolled piece of paper, smoothing out the wrinkles and creases. He scanned through the document. "It's the real thing," he pronounced as he handed it to Tony to examine.

"What about the paper work?" Gibbs asked. "What documents did he sign?"

"Documents to transfer his money to banks in Cuba and also a few deed transfers between dummy corporations and Jimmy's name," Tim explained. "When Charles caught sight of the bottom line he decided that what Jimmy was paying him wasn't enough. He was going to take all of Jimmy's money for himself."

"So that makes Agent John Charles our unidentified crispy critter," Tony said. "Guess that means the cops can stop dredging the river."

"Huh?" he asked, wincing as the sudden movement jarred his injury.

"Agent Charles was last seen getting into a taxi after collecting the signed warrant," Gibbs said. "Speculation was that Jimmy had picked him up and 'disappeared' him."

"The Bureau has been searching for him for the last two weeks," Tony said. "They even managed to find enough of a spine to arrest Boone. I guess they thought he had kidnapped Charles."

"They arrested Boone?" he asked. "Do they have enough to prosecute him?"

"Oh yeah," Gibbs replied. "They didn't find his dumping grounds but they did find a scrap book filled with photos of his victims. And with Fornell's testimony, he's going to get the chair."

"Good," he said as he squeezed Abby's hand. Suddenly he yawned and winced as he jarred his injuries.

"I think it may be best if we let Timothy rest for a time," Ducky said as he stood. "I'll fetch the morphine which will allow you to sleep more comfortably."

"Thanks Ducky," he said. Even though he had been sleeping for twelve days, he felt exhausted.

"You should sleep too Abs," Gibbs said.

"I have been sleeping," she said as she motioned to the pallet.

"In a real bed," Gibbs said firmly.

He looked at Abby. Now that he really looked at her, he could see that she looked exhausted and gaunt.

"I'm fine Abby," he said. "Take care of yourself." Abby looked at him and nodded. She stood up and pecked him on the cheek before she left the room. "That goes for you two, too," he said. "You look like hell."

Tony chuckled. "You should see yourself Tim," Tony said.

Ducky returned and administered the medicine. The pain eased and he felt himself dropping off.

"Go back to sleep, Tony," Gibbs said softly. "I'll keep watch over him."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry it took so long to get this posted but between being out of town and work, I wasn't able to complete my final edit to the last chapter. That in itself was a challenge and the more I edited, the more it seemed like the chapter would never end. When I finally checked my word count, I realized the final chapter was massive. So here's the good news, there's one more chapter! I found a good place to break the huge chapter and I'll wrap up the story in the next and final chapter. Hopefully, I'll get that one edited and up in a few days. Thanks again for your patience!


	29. Chapter 28 - Resolutions

**Chapter 28 - Resolutions**

 _Timothy McGee_

* * *

When he next woke, it was easier to open his eyes and look around. He was still tired and sore but the pain was dull, like it was half-forgotten memory.

"Morning sunshine," Tony said drawing his attention. Tony was seated in the chair next to him, reading a newspaper. Unlike last time, Abby wasn't on the floor resting. In fact, the makeshift pallet had been replaced with an empty chair.

"Hey Tony," he said softly. "What time is it?"

Tony folded his paper and glanced at his watch. "About eleven in the morning," Tony said. "You've been asleep almost thirty hours."

"I'm not surprised," he said as he looked at the glass of water on the bedside table. He struggled to sit up and managed it with Tony's help. Tony handed him the glass and he took a sip. "Thanks. Where is everyone else?"

"Abby and Gibbs went to get us some lunch," Tony said. "Ducky will be coming by in a bit to look in on you. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot," he said dryly. Tony rolled his eyes at him. "But better than yesterday."

"Good," Tony said. Tony looked at him seriously, startling him. "You scared the hell out of me Tim."

"I'm sorry Tony," he replied contritely. "If I could have found a way to wait for you, I would have."

"I know," Tony replied. "But next time, wait. No matter what. It's hard to protect my partner from trouble if he gets into it without me."

He shared a smile with Tony. He knew what it felt like to want to be at his partner's side. He had felt the same way when Tony and Gibbs had confronted La Grenouille's goons after they had shot Palmer. But that was different. That had been a fair fight.

"I'm glad you weren't there though," he said to Tony's surprise. "Kidwell never had a chance. Agent Charles shot him as he came in the door. One shot to the heart." He looked at Tony meaningfully. "I'm sorry he's dead but I'm glad it wasn't you."

"I'd still like to think I could have done something different," Tony said. "I don't think Kidwell was worried he'd be shot by one of Napolitano's men like I'd have been. I'd have been more cautious."

"We'll never know, I guess," he said. "I wish I knew how I got here though," he said as he set the water glass on the bedside table. "Jimmy lives across town."

"As near as we can figure, you must have walked because Gibbs was able to track a blood trail from Napolitano's place before the rain washed it away," Tony said. "And in your state, you were lucky to have made it."

"Do I remember Gibbs right? It was two days before you found me?" he asked. "How did Blue and his boys miss me?"

"You didn't come in through the door," Tony said. "After we found you here, we searched and found your blood on the fire escape," Tony said.

"I came in through the fire escape?" he asked incredulously as he heard a door open and shut. "It's a fifty-foot vertical ladder."

"I know," Tony said. Tony looked up as they heard feet on the stairs. They looked out through the open door and watched as Abby, Gibbs and Ducky entered the apartment. "But I've seen you when you're determined Tim. And a little thing like a climb like that wasn't going to stop you from reaching Abby's bed."

He pulled a face at his grinning partner.

He wanted to retort but Abby, Gibbs and Ducky entered the bedroom, the latter two dragging additional chairs with them.

"Good morning Timothy," Ducky said as he immediately checked his vitals. "You're looking better this morning."

"I'm feeling a little better," he said. "I'm sure the morphine helps."

"It would," Ducky said as he sat down in a chair. "I'll complete my full exam after we've had a bite to eat but I am encouraged by your improvement."

Abby pulled a thermos out of a brown bag and poured a cup of soup into the lid. She handed it to him before she took a seat and took a sandwich from Gibbs.

He chuckled at the sight of so many people crammed into a small room.

"Maybe we ought to consider moving to our apartment where there's more room," he said as he wrapped his hands around the warm soup cup. It wasn't cold in Abby's apartment but the warmth wasn't unwelcome.

"Can't," Gibbs said around a bite of his sandwich.

"It's too dangerous," Tony added. "Civil war, remember?"

"Yeah," he replied. "You mentioned that. It's still bad even after two weeks?"

"Well," Abby hedged. "It's not as bad as it was two weeks ago. It was pretty chaotic those first few days."

"The papers didn't report that Jimmy had been killed for a few days but it was an open secret for everyone else," Tony said. "There was definitely an uptick in assaults, shootings and murders for a few days." Ducky frowned. "That was when the battle lines were drawn. Five of Napolitano's Lieutenants tried to seize control. There are two left. The other three were either taken out by their former friends or the Frog."

"Blue beefed up the security here, especially after we discovered you," Abby said. "After that first attempt, things have been quiet around _Quicksilver_."

"What about the other two bodies?" he asked. "Did you publicly identify them?"

"I told the Bureau I could not positively identify the other two bodies," Ducky said. "Which wasn't entirely untrue. Until you awoke, we couldn't identify the second body."

"I personally talked to Kidwell's wife and gave her the news," Tony said. "It was the least I could do."

"I'd like to write her a letter," Tim said. "I didn't know him well but he seemed like a good man. And he died trying to protect me." Tony nodded. "It's too bad that we can't go back to our place. It'd be more comfortable for you."

"Little Ricky's boys have been watching our place," Tony said. "I went back to get some of our things and nearly got pinched by Scaletti when I stepped out the front door. Fortunately, Jake Roberts is pretty handy in a fight. He helped me to get away." Tony motioned to Gibbs. "Gibbs has been checking the place on occasion and saw Vincetti keeping an eye on the building."

"We won't go back there until things cool off," Gibbs said.

"Or until Little Ricky does something to get himself arrested," Tony added.

He sipped his soup. Chicken noodle soup again but it was delicious. If he wasn't mistaken, it probably came from the diner. He had enjoyed many bowls of Elaine's chicken soup.

"Little Ricky?" he asked. "I take it he's one of the two Lieutenants remaining?"

"No, the other two are in addition to Little Ricky," Tony replied. "Ricky's been consolidating his control over the organization and has the lion's share of control though. Turns out he's almost as bad as his father when it comes to dealing with disloyalty," Tony said. He frowned. "I'd hate to see how bad he'd be if Boone was still on the loose."

"He's also not as stupid as he'd like us to think," Gibbs said. "Which is why you and Tony need to stay out of sight."

"You don't need to tell me twice," he said as he drank more of the soup. "But why Tony? I mean, if people think I'm dead, why would they go after my body guard?"

"It isn't a secret that you two were close," Gibbs said. "Little Ricky thinks you might have told him something."

"What?" he asked. "Does Ricky think I told Tony the code to the books?"

"You _did_ tell Tony the code to the books," Abby retorted.

"That's beside the point," he said. Suddenly it hit him. "Jeez, the books!" he said suddenly. "We need to get my copy of the books from the apartment."

"Easy McGee," Tony said. "We have them." He relaxed. "After the fire, we spent the day at the apartment. Abby brought your copy of the ledgers with her when we came here."

"What about the…"

"Ledgers in Napolitano's office?" Tony finished. "As far as we know, they're still in Napolitano's office. The BOIs raided the office and took away boxes and boxes of stuff and they took in Pale Dale for questioning."

"The poor guy," he said.

"No kidding," Tony replied. "He must be practically translucent by now. Anyway from what we've heard, it doesn't seem like the BOIs found the ledgers. But they've also kept the office under lock and key, so Little Ricky hasn't gotten the ledgers either."

"He's got a safe cracker on standby," Gibbs said as he wiped his mouth. "As soon as it's clear, they're going after the ledgers."

"Since we have the duplicate ledgers, I could provide enough information to the Bureau for them to pick up Little Ricky," he said. He thought about it and added, "Although it would be pretty obvious that the information came from me." He looked at Tony. "Why didn't you tell the BOIs where to find the ledgers?" he asked.

"Because," Tony said as if it was obvious. "I didn't know. And even if I did, I didn't have the combination to the safe."

"We weren't about to give up your copy either," Gibbs said. "Can't risk that someone else from the Bureau is on the take. Morrow wants to keep them as insurance as this investigation continues and I agree."

"Oh," he replied sheepishly. "Right. I can write down how to get to the safe. The BOIs can crack it or I can give them the combination. Most of the important documents pertaining to Napolitano's illegal businesses are inside that safe." Tony nodded. "What happened to my briefcase?"

"What briefcase?" Gibbs asked.

Alarmed, he set his empty cup of soup aside. "My briefcase. The one I've been carrying since I started to put the paperwork together to consolidate Jimmy's assets. Brown leather, hard sides, two straps with buckles and a key lock."

"I know the one," Tony said. "Last I saw it, you had it at your office."

"We didn't find a briefcase," Gibbs said.

"We know because we had to clean this place up," Tony said. "You dropped enough blood and emptied Abby's linen closet when you tried to do some first aid."

"You could have dropped it anywhere between Napolitano's apartment and here, McGee. We may never find it," Gibbs said. He felt his face fell. "You have copies of these documents, right?" Gibbs asked.

"Not one's that were signed by Jimmy," he replied as he struggled to sit up. "We need to find that briefcase." He tried to swing his legs out of bed but sharp pain lanced through his torso. Gibbs hastily stood and put a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

"Timothy, you shouldn't try to stand," Ducky said as he watched Gibbs gently hold him back. "You could tear the stitches out. We do not need you to lose any more blood! I don't want to risk a second transfusion after your poor reaction to the first."

"We need to find that case, Ducky," he said as he reluctantly rested against the pillows.

"Tim," Gibbs said. "For all we know, it could be in a city trash dump by now."

Suddenly Abby stood up. She walked over to her chest of drawers and reached under it. She pulled out a small brown case. "Is this it?" she asked as she held it up. "I noticed it a while ago but I thought it was the suitcase Tim had used to bring some extra clothes here. I didn't think to look inside."

"Yes!" Tim said wincing even as he struggled to sit up straighter. Gibbs helped him and when he was propped up with pillows, he took the case and opened it. He pulled out a pile of slightly bloody papers. "Good," Tim said relieved. He set the case aside and began to sort through the papers to make sure everything was there. "I thought I grabbed everything but with the smoke, I was afraid I missed something."

"What's so important about these papers, McGee?" Tony asked.

"Oh, uh, they're Napolitano's assets," he said as he looked up at Tony. "Paperwork to the various bank accounts where he has his money stashed."

"What good does that do us?" Tony asked. "Napolitano's dead. The best we can do is to turn these over to the Bureau so they can seize his money and businesses."

"Including _Quicksilver_ ," Abby said softly.

"No," Tim said as he shuffled through the pages. " _Quicksilver_ is yours, Abs. Well as soon as you sign, you'll be the owner of Randolf's Garment Factory and _Quicksilver_."

"What?" she asked as she took the paper from Tim and read through it. "How?"

"Napolitano was drunk and he was signing things so fast he didn't bother to stop and read them," Tim said with a shrug. "Even if he had, I doubt he would have realized what he was signing in his state. He could barely see straight."

"You slipped in a deed transfer for _Quicksilver_?" Tony asked with an incredulous smile.

"Yeah," he replied as he shifted through the papers and found another deed. "And the deed to our apartment," he said with a grin. Tony took the deed and looked it over. "Jimmy was going to give it to me anyway as part of my severance package. I just sped up the process. Considering that he's dead, I'm glad I did."

"You sly Mcfox," Tony said, grinning. "You're more devious than I gave you credit for!"

Gibbs looked at him appraisingly. "What else did you slip by Napolitano?"

Sobering, Tim said, "Oh uh. I'm also a co-account holder on all his bank accounts. I had to do that so I had the ability to transfer his funds. But he knew that."

"So, you have access to Jimmy's money?" Ducky asked.

He looked at them, sheepishly. "Yeah," he said. "And not just Cuba, although most of his money is there by now or it will be the minute I turn these papers over to the bank. I have access to all of his money."

"How much money are we talking about?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh uh. A lot," he said vaguely.

"A lot can mean a lot of things, Tim," Tony countered. "Especially since we're talking about Napolitano. How much?"

"About two and a half million dollars," he said under his breath.

"You have access to two and a half million dollars?" Gibbs asked incredulously.

"Well technically, I don't just have access to it. It's mine. I'm on the accounts and now that Jimmy is dead, I'm the sole account holder," he said defensively. "If I can find Jimmy's private ledgers, I'm sure there will be more money and assets. I mean we know he was paying Agent Charles and it wasn't out of the funds I knew about, so Jimmy's got more money squirreled away somewhere. If we can show that money was obtained illegally, we can have it seized."

"Wait, go back. You're telling me that you could walk up to Jimmy's bank and withdraw two million dollars?" Tony asked incredulously. "I mean, if you could walk."

"Yeah," he replied, honestly.

"I'd hardly recommend that," Ducky said. "You'd be a target of every thief in the District!"

"Not to mention a target of every one of Napolitano's men who think you might have killed him for his money," Gibbs said.

"Too bad there isn't a safer way to access the money," Abby said.

"There is," he said. "Most of this paperwork is actually to transfer Jimmy's money to the Bank of Nova Scotia in Havana. He's got his funds scattered over a half dozen banks in the District. All we need to do is hand over the signed paperwork and the money will be transferred. We could pick it up in Cuba without any trouble. As far as I know, Jimmy never told anyone, even his son, that he planned to go to Cuba."

Tony stared at him in disbelief before he grinned. "I love Cuba!"

"You've never been to Cuba," he pointed out.

"All the more reason to go!" Tony retorted. "Not to mention that there are two and a half million dollars in Cuba."

"Mob money," Ducky said darkly. "Ill gotten, no doubt."

"Ill booten gotty," Tony said roguishly.

Tim shook his head. "Ok, I know I've been out for a few days. But did that make any sense?"

"No," he said as he stared at Tony.

"Ill booten gotty," Tony said. "I saw it somewhere. In a picture or maybe I heard it on a comedy show. The guy was making fun of pirates and their ill gotten booty." Gibbs glared at Tony but the young man only grinned back at him. The thought of so much money clearly outweighed the risk of a head slap.

"Well actually, Ducky," Tim said as he looked at the old doctor. "All that money came from Jimmy's legit businesses like the garment factory. He sunk all his dirty money profits back into his businesses. That's partially how he managed to keep himself out of trouble over the years. No one could tie dirty money back to Naps because all of the money they could find was clean."

"Clever," Ducky said drolly.

"What were you planning to do with that money, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh uh, well," he said stammering. "Well I don't know. It wasn't going to be an issue when we were going to arrest Jimmy but now that he's dead…" Tim trailed off. "It changes things a bit."

"You aren't thinking of keeping all that money, are you?" Ducky asked scandalously.

"Well," Tim hedged. He hadn't really thought about it. To be fair, he hadn't been awake for long either.

"After two years, we deserve a bonus," Tony said grinning.

Ducky looked at Gibbs clearly hoping that he would put an end to this but he didn't see any sign that Gibbs was going to disagree with Tony.

"Jethro, I am surprised at you."

"Why, Duck?" Gibbs countered. "You heard Tim. It isn't tainted money and it wasn't stolen either. Napolitano signed over the money to an account with McGee's name on it. And since Napolitano was never charged with a crime, we have no reason to seize the funds so technically it is McGee's money."

"Technically," Ducky said disdainfully. "Technically the deed to _Quicksilver_ could be considered theft by deception."

"There's no proof, Ducky," Tony said. "Tim's the only witness who survived. With Jimmy dead, there's no evidence to the contrary," Tony said.

"This is all very distasteful," Ducky said sourly.

"No one said it wasn't," Gibbs replied mollifying the older man.

"Even if it's clean, I don't want it," Tim said quickly. "I thought that we could donate the money to charity. Jim Kidwell had two kids, Gibbs. He died trying to make sure they had food on the table and clothes on their backs. I think his wife deserves a little something. And there are plenty of others who could use the help. I think with a little investing, we could do a lot of good for a long time with that money."

Gibbs smiled slightly and nodded in approval.

Ducky relaxed.

"Sounds better to me than letting the government have it," Abby said in agreement.

"It might never make up for all the bad things that Jimmy did in his life," Tim said as he thought back to people like Jim Kidwell and Fred Seymour. "But it has to count for something, right?"

"Yeah, Tim," Gibbs said gently. "It counts."

"So, what now?" Abby asked.

"First, we have to see to our safety," Gibbs said. "I think it's only a matter of time before Little Ricky comes looking for us here."

"Want us to move to a cabin in West Virginia?" he asked wryly.

"I've heard that Cuba is nice this time of year," Tony said with a grin. "And there may be a pile of money waiting for us there."

"I could use a vacation. I haven't had any time off in almost two years," Tim replied. Tony grinned. "Plus, it's probably for the best if I get out of town for a while. Jimmy had told his associates that I was to be in charge once he skipped town and if they think I'm alive, they might think I'm the reason Naps is dead."

"They think you're dead and that you're the reason Napolitano is dead," Gibbs said seriously. "Little Ricky swore if you weren't dead, he was going to kill you Tim." He frowned. "Which is why Tony is in danger. Ricky wants to take out anyone associated with you."

They all looked at Abby. She looked alarmed.

"Hazards of dating a mob boss' money man, Abby," Tony said.

"We're not dating," he and Abby said at the same time.

"Well whatever you are," Gibbs said, interrupting before Tony could argue the point. "I think we ought to take Abby with us when we leave town. We can't risk that Little Ricky will think you knew something."

"Something tropical does sound really nice right now," Abby said as she carefully sat down on the bed next to him. "You can't see outside Tim, but the weather has been awful lately."

"I thought you didn't like the sun," he said as he looked at her in confusion.

"I don't," she said honestly. Then she smiled sweetly. "But I do love a stroll along the ocean by the moonlight." He grinned as he took her hand in his.

"What about _Quicksilver_?" he asked.

"I think Stan can manage her for a while," Abby said. "You know, Gibbs, we might want to convince Ziva to leave town for a while too. It isn't a secret that she and Tony are sweet on each other."

"Ziva can take care of herself," Tony protested.

"Yeah, but Abby's right," Gibbs said. "It might not hurt for her to make herself scarce for a while."

"I'll bet you that Ziva could find a club to sing at in Havana," he said to Abby who nodded in agreement. "You could get to know her better Tony, without having to worry about blowing our cover." Tony looked at him in shock and stammered but no words came out. "Hopefully it won't hurt your bottom line too much Abby," he said ignoring his partner.

"I think we'll manage," Abby said. "Besides, it'll be easier once we can legally sell beer in a few weeks."

"Wait," he asked in confusion. "What?"

"The Cullen-Harrison Act passed yesterday," Tony said as he picked up the paper he had been reading.

Tim saw a headline in big bold letters:

 **CULLEN-HARRISON ACT PASSES!**

 **PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT SAYS, 'I THINK THIS WOULD BE A GOOD TIME FOR A BEER!'**

"Beer and wine with alcohol less than three point two percent can be manufactured and sold legally starting April seventh," Abby said.

"They changed the definition of an alcoholic beverage to get around the eighteenth amendment," he said. Abby nodded. "Clever."

"Which is surprising for Congress," Abby said.

"It'll tide people over until the eighteenth amendment can be repealed," Abby said. "If ever."

"How about you, Ducky?" he asked. "What do you think of Cuba?"

"Me?" Ducky asked in shock. "You want me to go to Cuba with you?" He nodded. "I'll admit, the idea isn't unpleasant but we barely know one another. I doubt that anyone could connect us. I don't think I would be at risk. Why ever would you want me to go to Cuba with you?"

"Well someone needs to keep an eye on McGee while he recovers," Tony said, answering for Tim.

"And we trust you, Duck," Gibbs added.

Ducky looked touched. "I know that you do not easily trust strangers," Ducky said. "So that means a great deal to me. But." Ducky stammered lightly. "How would I explain my sudden influx of money?" he asked. "A trip to Cuba isn't exactly cheap. Especially if you intend to stay as long as I think you plan to stay. Timothy's recovery will be weeks, not days."

"You can tell them that you had a rich uncle die and leave you a boatload of cash," Tony said.

"Don't you think a more generic lie would be better?" Ducky asked. "If I get too specific, someone will be curious," he said.

"No," he and Tony said at the same time. Tim spoke so enthusiastically that he winced. After he waved them off, he motioned to Tony to explain.

"Always be specific when you lie," Tony said.

"Is this another one of your rules?" Ducky asked as he looked at Gibbs.

"Number seven," Tim said at the same time as Tony.

"Should I start writing these down?" Ducky asked.

"No," Tony said.

"You kinda pick them up as you go along," he said as he looked at Gibbs. His boss was barely containing a smile.

"How many of these rules are there?" Ducky asked.

"There are about fifty of them," Tony added.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ducky said dryly.

"If you don't care to lie, you can tell them that you've been hired as a private physician," Tim said. "That's a little closer to the truth anyway. I bet that we can pull some strings to allow you to take a leave of absence."

He looked at Gibbs and Ducky followed his gaze.

"I'll talk to Morrow and see if he can't pull some strings," Gibbs said. "It can probably be arranged in order to wrap up this mission. We need you healthy if we want to completely take down Napolitano's network."

"But if the end of Prohibition is near, why?" Ducky asked. "Legal liquor will put an end to the speak easy and the crime associated with them." Abby frowned. "Sorry, my dear. But you know it to be the truth."

"Yeah," Abby said. "I've been thinking about ways to take _Quicksilver_ above ground." They stared at her. "So to speak." She shrugged. "It's going to take some planning though. Plus, I kinda need to be able to sell liquor too and that's still illegal."

"I think this was just the start," Ducky said. "I have heard rumors that Congress is seeking a way to ratify the repeal of the eighteenth amendment that won't require state legislatures to pass a law. An acquaintance of mine, Tom Hubbard, claims that something called a state convention can be used to pass an amendment." Ducky took a deep breath. "Actually, it is quite fascinating that the founders of this country provided not one but two means to modify the Constitution…"

"Duck," Gibbs said impatiently. "Save the civics lesson."

"Very well," Ducky said. "If you are taking me on as your personal physician Timothy, I can say that some sun would do you good. Although I would recommend that you rest and recover before you take your vacation. I wouldn't recommend that you travel just yet."

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere right now, Ducky," Tim said.

He replaced the papers into the briefcase and set it to the side. Then he allowed Abby to help him lay back before he sighed contentedly. It had been almost two years since they had been this carefree. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he felt relaxed and happy despite the throbbing pain in his side and leg.

"Don't get too comfortable," Gibbs said. "It's not over yet McGee. You're still undercover while we finish dismantling Napolitano's network." He felt his smile disappear.

"You're kidding, right?" Abby asked. "He nearly died on this mission of yours. His family thinks that he's a criminal. Hasn't he done enough for you yet?"

"Abby," he said softly. He put his hand on hers. She stopped and looked at him. "This is my job. It is my duty to see this through to the end."

She looked like she wanted to object but another look from Tim silenced her.

"We can't let our guard down, until we're able to leave DC," Gibbs said. "Tim can testify as an anonymous witness, which should help the Bureau make more arrests. And without Agent Charles to run interference, we should be able to lock up the worst of Napolitano's men. How soon can he travel, Duck?"

"It should be at least a few days," Ducky said. "I want to be certain that he is truly on the mend and strong enough to travel."

"Good. I want this wrapped up as soon as possible. We'll provide anonymous tips that should take the lieutenants off the street and as soon as Tim is strong enough, we'll head to Cuba. We can wrap things up from there where it's safe. I'd rather be out of Little Ricky's reach when he's arrested."

"Good," Tim said. "I can hold out another couple of weeks, Boss. But I'm real eager for this to be over."

Gibbs looked at him sympathetically and he knew why. He was very eager to tell his family that he wasn't a criminal. He looked at Gibbs questioningly and Gibbs nodded.

"I understand, McGee," Gibbs said. "Perhaps part of it can be over now."

"Seriously?" Tim asked in shock. He hadn't expected to be able to tell his parents the truth yet.

He looked at Abby. "Will your phone reach in here Abby?" he asked.

"I think so," she replied puzzled. "Why?"

"McGee needs to make a very important long-distance call," Gibbs said. Standing up, Gibbs shuffled Abby and Ducky from the room. A moment later he returned with the phone.

"I know this took longer than we all expected," Gibbs said. "And things didn't always go as we expected."

"That's the truth," Tony said as he rubbed his arm where he had been shot.

"But you both did a damn good job," Gibbs continued. "The evidence you found, the testimony you'll give; it will put a lot of people behind bars where they belong." He and Tony nodded. "All of the hard work we put in, it was worth it, even if we didn't get the pleasure of arresting Napolitano."

He looked at the phone in Gibbs' hand.

"I hope you're right, Boss," he said.

"Your dad will understand once you explain things," Tony said.

"I know he will," he replied. "I just hope he isn't too mad."

Tony chuckled to his surprise. "Pretty sure you might have to worry more about Sarah holding a grudge than your father."

He snorted and winced. "You have no idea Tony," he said. "Boss, do you think that I can see her before we leave town? She ought to know to be careful and maybe she should head home for a while."

"Yeah Tim," Gibbs said. "We'll bring her in for a visit. And we'll make sure she stays safe. Fornell's promised to take care of her. With Boone in jail and Napolitano dead, he's returned to the Bureau."

"He's taken over the investigation into Napolitano's network after Charles disappeared," Tony explained.

"Good, we'll see more progress with him in charge," he said. "Diane and Emily?"

"They're still in hiding," Gibbs explained. "Fornell was willing to take the risk but he wants to make sure it's safe before he brings his family back to Washington." Gibbs set the phone onto the bed. "Make your call, Tim."

"Boss," he said stopping Gibbs. "Thanks for believing in me."

"Wasn't hard to have faith in you, Tim," Gibbs said. "I knew you could do it." He opened his mouth to argue but Gibbs cut him off. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

"Thanks, Boss," he said as he smiled, warmed by Gibbs' unconditional trust in him. "And thanks for having my back, Tony," he said. "I couldn't have done this without you at my side."

"We got through this together, Tim," Tony replied. "You, me and Gibbs. Pretty sure that there isn't anything we can't do together. Napolitano never stood a chance."

"Amen," Gibbs said. "You did good." Gibbs looked Tony in the eye. "You too Tony," Gibbs said.

He looked at Tony and smiled. Tony seemed surprised at the praise. The surprise, however, quickly turned to a smile of appreciation.

"It's been a long two years, Boss," Tony said.

He nodded. Now that it was so close to being over, he could feel how tired he was. He was looking forward to some time away without having to worry about gangsters or bootlegging or being made.

"For the next mission, can we pick something with a shorter timeframe?" Tony finished.

Gibbs chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied as he motioned for Tony to follow him. Tony squeezed his shoulder and followed Gibbs out the door. Gibbs pulled the door shut but left it open a crack.

He looked at the phone apprehensively. Then steeling himself, he picked up the receiver. There was no use working about what his father would say until they talked.

"How many I place your call?" the operator asked.

"I need to place a long-distance phone call to California," he said stammering slightly. He frowned at himself. He hadn't stammered like this in months. If he could stand up to gangsters, he didn't have to be afraid of his father. He took a deep breath and said more firmly. "To Naval Base San Diego."

"To whom may I connect you on the base?" the operator asked.

"Admiral John McGee," he replied.

"One moment, please," she said.

He clenched the receiver as he waited for the operator to make the connection. His heart was in his throat and it was pounding so hard, he could barely breathe.

Suddenly the phone picked up.

"This is Admiral McGee," his father said. He hesitated. This was the first time he had heard his father's voice in almost two years. "Hello?"

"Dad?" Tim said. "It's me, Tim." His father didn't respond but he could practically hear his father's teeth grinding. "Look, I know I know you said you never wanted to hear from me again. But…" Tim took a deep steadying breath. "There's something I need to tell you. You may not believe it because it's a little fantastic but I swear it's the truth. It's about what I've really been doing these last two years…"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Just a few final notes for this story.

Two and a half million dollars translates into about fifty million dollars today. Jimmy was doing very well for himself and now Tim has quite a nest egg. Unless he invests it in a bad hedge fund, he should have plenty of money to donate to charity over the years.

The Cullen-Harrison Act (named after the New York State Representative and Mississippi Senator who introduced the act) was passed on March 21, 1933 just seventeen days after FDR was sworn into office and was the first step in the process to repeal the 18th Amendment. With the passage of the act, it made the sale of low-alcohol (less than 3.2% by volume) beer and wine legal starting April 7, 1933.

The 18th Amendment was officially repealed by the 21st Amendment after it was proposed in Congress on February 20, 1933. The 21st Amendment was the only one to use the State Ratifying Conventions to approve the amendment. State Ratifying Conventions are a secondary way to approve an amendment by convening a special convention of delegates to vote on the matter. This circumvents the politics of ratifying an amendment through the state legislatures. To pass an amendment, two-thirds of the 48 states (Alaska and Hawai didn't join until the late 50s) had to vote yes. Michigan voted yes on April 10 and the motion carried when Ohio, Pennsylvania and Utah voted yes on December 5, 1933. South Carolina was the only state to vote no although nine other states took no action. Of interest, the ratification of the 21st Amendment led to the formation of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms from what was left of the Bureau of Prohibition with their new goal to regulate and tax the newly legal alcohol.

I know some of you would prefer to see the Admiral eat crow as Tim tells him about how he was undercover to take down a mobster. But I didn't want to rehash the entire story again just so Admiral McGee can feel like a fool for being so hard on his son. I wouldn't mind seeing it too but I didn't think it fit in this story, which was really about our boys. I'll see if the muse cooperates and maybe I can put together a one-shot follow up from the Admiral's perspective.

With that, though, this story is complete. Researching the era and figuring out how various NCIS characters would fit into it was a ton of fun. Like Frozen, the story was 'complete' when I started but with final edits, I added two more chapters and an additional 39,000 words! (Yikes!) The bulk of the changes came in the last three (which turned into four) chapters where things were completely rearranged, although the gist of what happened remained the same as what I had originally written. Regardless, I'm pleased with the changes and how things turned out.

I hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I enoyed writing it. Reviews are always appreciated and I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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